


New Friends and Old Strangers

by Aunt_Shoe



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ikea Mafia (Umbrella Academy), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Smut, My First Fanfic, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Physical Disability, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aunt_Shoe/pseuds/Aunt_Shoe
Summary: The disabled reader finds herself thrust into a world of danger when three Swedish men knock on her door.
Relationships: Oscar (Umbrella Academy)/Original Male Character(s), Otto (Umbrella Academy)/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, so please bear with me. I have no idea how long this story will go on for; that depends on my inspiration. I was tired of a lack of disabled reader inserts. They say, "Write the story you want to read," so that's what I'm gonna do.

Life was grim. What else was new? Your entire life had been grim. The only difference now was that you were completely alone. You took a moment to look around your very modest house, attempting to keep the despair at bay. The living room held only a threadbare sofa, a similarly worn armchair, a small coffee table, two floor lamps, and a bookshelf. The open floor plan flowed into a cramped kitchen with the bare minimum of a stove, icebox, percolator, table, and four chairs. Down a very short hall and up a narrow flight of stairs, there were two bedrooms- one you claimed for yourself, and one set up for a potential tenant- and a bathroom that could more accurately be considered a water closet if it weren't for the tub against the far wall. No television, no washing machine, no telephone. 

As minimal and old as the house was, you were at least grateful that you could call it your own. You had bought it only the year before, pouring all of your meager spending money into it. The house was more than four walls and a roof; to you, the house was a sanctuary. It was a sanctuary from your past, a sanctuary from the outside world, and even a sanctuary from your own dark thoughts. The house gave you enough work to keep your body occupied during the day, and tire your body to the point of exhaustion, so that sleep came easily at night. You also made a habit (admittedly a rather poor habit) of taking in and feeding the neighborhood's multitude of stray cats. The cats were also a form of escapism, you supposed, because they gave you something to care for, something that depended on you to get out of bed each morning. 

It was a shame that your sanctuary would have to be breached sooner rather than later. You needed a tenant as a way to bring in some form of income. You recognized that it was a necessary evil to allow a stranger into your home. It was difficult for you to find employment nearby, with no car, no family, and an easy hundred rumors floating around the neighborhood about you. 

A knock on the front door brought you back to your full awareness. Standing from the sofa, you smoothed the wrinkles out of your skirt, and took a deep breath. _Please be a tenant. I need this to be a tenant._ You checked your hair in the mirror that hung next to the door for that very use, making sure there wasn't a single strand out of place. Another knock came, just as you were steeling yourself to open the door.

As you gently swung the door open, you were greeted by the sight of three platinum blonde men standing in a line on your stoop. Each of them wore a very solemn look as their bright, blue eyes bore into you. 

"Well, good afternoon, gentlemen," you greeted them with your most charming, Southern Belle smile. "What can I do for you?" 

The man to your right, seemingly the eldest of the bunch, held out a small newspaper clipping in his gloved hand. _Thank God, tenants!_ Your ad was short, simple, and to the point, explaining the meager accommodations for one tenant. But here they were, all three of them.

"Ah, yes! I'm glad you found my ad in the paper. Come in, sit down. I'll grab you gentlemen some sweet tea and we can talk about it," you said as pleasantly as you could manage. Stepping aside, so the men could enter, you began to notice other strange qualities about them. The older two seemed to be wearing well-worn clothes fifty years out of date: long coats, loose shirts, and patched pants. The youngest one was sporting a stark white milkman's uniform, pristine, save for a small spatter of what you hoped wasn't blood on the collar. They each carried a rucksack, more than likely filled with their only earthly belongings. The second man to slip passed you into the house was so tall that the top of his head nearly grazed the doorframe, not to mention the rather prominent scar under his right eye. 

You quietly closed the door behind them and motioned for them to take a seat on the sofa. Gliding as gracefully as you could manage through the small swarm of cats, trying to appear every bit the southern hostess your mother taught you to be, you filled three glasses with iced tea and carried them on a tray over to the coffee table in front of the men. As you handed each man a glass, they accepted it politely with a nod of appreciation, but none of them made a move to drink it. 

"Well, now. My name is (Y/N), and I'll function as your landlord. I'll be cooking three square meals a day, and keeping the house as tidy as possible," you offer as an icebreaker. "I'm even willing to wash your clothes, no questions asked," you add, trying not to stare at the possible bloodstain on the milkman uniform. You perched in the armchair and waited on a reply. When none of them spoke, you went on. 

"I must admit that I'm only prepared for one guest, but I'm certain I can find a rollaway bed. Although it's a little on the dated side, the couch is rather comfortable, if you're not alright with sharing the double bed in the guestroom." Still, the trio continued to analyze you without so much as a word or a sip. "If those arrangements will do, I'll simply need a down payment. This is a rather informal lease, so no papers will need signing or anything. However, I would like to know the names of my new tenants."

The oldest of the three was a sharp-faced man who wore his white hair slicked back. He was the one to answer.

"Axel," he offered, pointing to himself. "Otto," he pointed to the tallest of the three. "Oscar," he pointed to the youngest man in the milkman's uniform. 

His accent was most certainly not from North America, but besides sounding vaguely European, you had no idea what it might be. It was just one more point on a growing list of reasons why you should turn them down. Then again, you had no idea when a new potential tenant might show up. You couldn't afford to pass up their money. Out of desperation, you had to keep them. What if these are dangerous men? They're definitely offbeat, but you couldn't help but add up the bloodstain, the scar, the odd behavior. 

The sound of Axel clearing his throat brought you back to the moment. Funny, you hadn't realized that your mind had wandered away with you. You glanced up, ready to make some excuse, when you realized Axel was holding out a small stack of money in his right hand. 

"Oh, I suppose that will do for a down payment," you said, hesitantly reaching out to accept the money. In that moment, you glanced over to the youngest man, Oscar, and noticed your gray tabby, Teddy, sitting in his lap. Teddy seemed to be perfectly content as Oscar scratched under his chin and smiled as the tabby purred in his lap. Maybe these guys weren't so bad, after all. The cats always seemed to be decent judges of character, so if they liked these strange men, maybe this arrangement wasn't such a bad idea. You'd still lock your bedroom door at night. 

Axel seemed to observe this entire thought process and spoke up. "We will stay out of the way, and respect your home."

You smiled at him and nodded politely, your face burning from the embarrassment of being read so easily. 

"I think we will get along just fine."

  
  


The three strangers settled in quickly, taking their rucksacks into the guestroom. You didn't see them emerge for what seemed to be an eternity. Deciding it was best to keep yourself busy, you went to the kitchen and began to prepare for supper, keeping an ear out for any of your tenants. With the cooler evenings this time of year, it was probably best to have a stew pot. As you peeled carrots and potatoes, you let your mind wander a bit, and you found it wandering to your new tenants. 

The tall one, Otto, was honestly rather handsome. Not really handsome in a conventional way, but definitely attractive. Though, he could use a haircut. You couldn't help but wonder how on earth he got that scar under his right eye. 

Axel, the oldest man, was rather attractive, too. There was something suave about his sharp features and slicked back hair. He conveyed such self assuredness, which in and of itself was attractive. 

The young man, Oscar, was the most conventionally attractive of the three. He had what some might call "boyish good looks." However, he wasn't really your type. 

_Your type? No, stop it. You can't possibly be looking at these strangers as though they're boys on the high school football team. Pull yourself together, girl._ Your cheeks flushed hot as you pushed such silly, girlish thoughts out of your mind. Flustered, and distracted, the potato you were peeling fell to the table, and the knife caught your left index finger. 

"Shit," you whispered to yourself, jumping up to rinse your hand off under the kitchen tap.

"Ladies shouldn't use that sort of language." Your heart accelerated as your fight or flight response took over, leaving you momentarily frozen to the spot. You hadn't heard so much as a single footstep. How did he manage to sneak up on you? Your body finally caught up with your mind, as you turned off the water, grabbed a nearby towel, and turned to face your guest. 

The smallest of the three men greeted you with a surprisingly friendly smile. You forced yourself to stand tall, as though you were the very definition of elegant confidence, all the while willing your heart to stop pounding. Oscar watched you for a moment, seemingly taking in every small detail that he could. However, you weren't uncomfortable under his scrutiny. If anything, you felt somewhat comforted, like Oscar was a close friend calling you out on some bullshit lie.

"You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that! You practically gave me a heart attack, Oscar," you scolded him, hoping he didn't notice just how badly he had actually frightened you. The last thing you wanted was for any of the three strangers living in your house to realize that you were afraid of them. "And I don't think my vocabulary is any of your concern."

" _Fräck_. Eh, cheeky. You are not like other women here," Oscar said with a bit of a chuckle, glancing quickly down to your left leg. His friendly smile widened a bit. "I like that about you, (Y/N). You don't have to worry about us. We will try to be as considerate as possible to our lovely hostess." 

You blushed at his notice of your prosthetic limb. To be fair, it was quite obvious, however most people made a point not to to look at it if they were attempting to be polite. If they weren't attempting to be polite, they would stare, and point, and whisper amongst themselves. Oscar didn't do either of those things. He studied your prosthesis for a moment, then he looked you in the eyes, studying for a moment longer.

"You have had a hard life, (Y/N), but I can tell you have a good heart. Thank you for opening your home to my brothers and me. I hope you take no offense in me saying so." 

Damn. He read you like a book. He had been in your life for all of two hours and he could already see you for who you really were. These odd men baffled you completely. At least you now knew their relation to one another. You had supposed they were family by their strong resemblance, but you wouldn't have guessed brothers.

"So what are you three doing here, in little ol' Texas?" you asked, clearing your throat in an attempt to change the subject. Another wide, almost devious smile spread across Oscar's face.

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he joked with a surprisingly musical laugh. You laughed as well, feeling some of the tension ebb away. 

"Well, if that's the case, my lips are sealed, but you'll have to pay extra for the silence," you responded with a sly wink. 

"Why don't I help you with dinner, instead? Nobody wants blood in their potatoes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks to everyone who read and left kudos on the first chapter! This one is gonna get kinda dark, so fair warning. I promise this will get fluffier in the future.

Supper that evening had gone relatively well. Things were still a bit awkward, but you found yourself enjoying the company of the brothers. Oscar would crack jokes, Axel would attempt polite small talk, and Otto would stare at his plate or out the kitchen window, anywhere to avoid looking at you across the table from him. You could see just how painfully shy Otto was, and it made your heart twinge. You made an effort to include him in the conversation, but never pushed him to answer. It hurt to see a grown man so uncomfortable with social interaction.

Immediately after supper, you cleared the table and washed the dishes as the brothers went upstairs. Just as you were drying the last of the bowls and placing them in the cabinet, you heard your tenants march downstairs and into the living area. You turned to see them all standing with their rucksacks over their shoulders, preparing to go somewhere. Their faces were stern and they seemed purpose driven.

"Leaving me so soon, boys?" you playfully quipped, trying to uphold the mood set at the dinner table. Instead of the jovial tone you had enjoyed earlier, you were met with three cold stares. Your heart fluttered as you felt a pit of doom form in your stomach.

"We have business. We will be back by morning," Axel replied, keeping his face and his voice even and emotionless. With that, the three men filed out into the night, slamming the door behind them.

 _What in God's name have you gotten yourself into, girl?_ Your mind began to swim with questions and possibilities. _What do you really know about these men?_ At supper, they had openly told you that they were from Sweden and had grown up on a very rural farm. That, at least, seemed genuine, but one truth in a sea of mysteries wasn't nearly enough.

Attempting to push away all of those many questions, you grabbed a novel from the bookshelf in the living room, mixed yourself a stiff Bloody Mary, and headed upstairs for a hot, relaxing bath, with one or two of the cats plodding along behind you. A bath and a book would be just what you needed to relax.

As you filled the tub with scalding water and plenty of suds, you perched on the rim to take off your prosthesis. Leaning the device against the wall, you took a moment to massage what was left of your weary limb. It was scarred and discolored, resembling a cooked ham more so than a leg. Your stomach churned and tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you thought about that horrible day when you lost your leg. The pain, the panic, the hopelessness.

You shook your head to clear it of the unwanted memories and slid backward into the tub. A sharp inhale involuntarily constricted your chest as you settled into the hot bathwater. You opened your book, a dime store mystery novel, and began to read. At least you attempted to read. You found yourself going over the first page again and again without comprehending any of it. Instead, your mind was consumed with painful memories and future worries, with an edge of black despair around all of it.

You left behind your old life over a year ago. Packing only what you could carry in your mother's old suitcase, you hopped on the first Greyhound west and landed in Dallas. Back then, the city seemed as though it held so much potential. It seemed like the perfect place to blend in and start again. In Dallas, no one knew your father. In Dallas, no one gave you lingering looks of pity because of what your father would do behind closed doors. In Dallas, the physical and emotional scars could heal. Or so you hoped.

It turned out that you couldn't blend in as well as you thought. People no longer gave you sympathetic gazes, instead they sneered or openly sniggered at your handicap. They didn't know about the years of abuse, but it only took one look to see that you were different. The bruises faded quickly, but the emotional toll was something that seemed to only fester. You could smile and hold your head up high. You could keep to yourself and be a polite, mild-mannered neighbor. What you couldn't do is forget. You couldn't forget the years of defilement. You couldn't forget all the nights of waiting with bated breath to know if your father would walk down the hall to your room. You couldn't forget the sound of breaking glass and crushed steel. You couldn't forget the pain of broken bones and ripped flesh.

Putting down the book, you fiercely wiped the hot tears streaming down your face. You knew that if you continued to ponder on such memories, they would consume you. You forced yourself into a state of numbness, and pushed all to the recesses of your tattered mind. You had to think about something else. Anything else.

Oscar seemed nice. He was a little different, but who were you to judge? Even with his deviousness, you could tell that he genuinely liked to laugh and make others laugh. Maybe having him around wouldn't be so bad. You could use more laughter in your life. Oscar could definitely be an improvement to this dull, rather sad place that you called home.

Then there was Axel. You still weren't certain about him. He acted polite enough, answering mundane questions at the dinner table. His English was the best out of the Swedes, but he seemed so cold and aloof. If you continued to be cheerful and polite, and Oscar continued to be playful and friendly, maybe Axel would come around. Maybe you could be amicable.

Otto didn't seem to speak English well, if at all. You had only heard him say a few words, mostly in Swedish and mostly to his brothers. Was he making a pointed effort to ignore you? Was he uncomfortable around you? Was it because of your handicap or your gender? Or was it something else? You found that you liked Otto, and you hoped that he would begin to like you, too. He had caring eyes and a sweet smile. Maybe he did like you, but he was nervous. He seemed to appreciate you including him in the conversation over supper. _I guess he's a gentle giant._

You pulled the tub stopper as you drained the last of your Bloody Mary, especially enjoying the two olives at the bottom of your glass. Pulling yourself up out of the tub, you perched on the edge just long enough to towel off and put your leg back on. You wrapped your hair in the towel and stroked Teddy for a moment. _Maybe life is getting better._ Not bothering to cover yourself, you made your way to your bedroom and sat in front of your small, wooden vanity. You unwrapped your hair and began to gently comb it out.

 _What about all of their strange actions? Where did they go in such a serious hurry this evening? Were they spies?_ That would account for their secretive behavior, but what would they be doing in Dallas? _Oh, God, could it have something to do with President Kennedy visiting soon?_ Your heart sunk as you reflected on the situation. They could be dangerous people. Oscar obviously had a bit of a dark side, but was he capable of such things? Axel was stone faced and you had no issue seeing him as an assassin. But nervous, shy Otto? He couldn't possibly be up to something nefarious. Could he? You were having a difficult time trying to wrap your head around what exactly was going on.

With your hair adequately combed out, you rose from the vanity and dressed yourself in your favorite pink nightgown and blue housecoat. Grabbing your glass and discarded novel from the bathroom, you made your way downstairs. Sliding the book back into place on its shelf, you straightened the small picture of your mother that you kept there. You went and washed your glass out at the kitchen sink and put it away in the cabinet. Everything was tidy, just the way you preferred.

Abruptly, the front door crashed open, sending cats hissing and running in all directions. Blood rushed in your ears as your heart pounded wildly. You grabbed a knife from the block on the counter and braced yourself for the worst. If you were going to die, by God, you were going to die fighting. You weren't a scared child anymore, you were a strong woman who would defend herself to the end. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You relaxed momentarily, recognizing the platinum blonde hair of Otto and Oscar. Then your heart threatened to leap out of your throat when you saw them carry in an unconscious Axel.

"Lay him on the couch," you shouted, running to the cabinet where you kept your medical supplies. Grabbing everything you could manage to carry, you rushed to Axle's side. His face was a little battered, but you couldn't see any obvious injuries.

"What happened? I need to know if he hit his head. A serious concussion could be dangerous," you plied his brothers, looking at Oscar and then Otto. They were also battered around their faces, with Otto holding his left arm close to his body. You briefly hoped that it wasn't broken because setting a bone was above your medical knowledge.

"We don't know if he hit his head," Oscar replied, darkly. His face was stern and almost as stony as his oldest brother.

Ignoring the fact that no one was telling you a damned thing about what happened, you gingerly examined Axel's head for lumps or lacerations. His blue eyes fluttered open during your examination and trained on you. Fortunately, you couldn't find any contusions. It was a good sign that Axel was conscious, so you decided to clean and treat the cuts on his face.

As you finished and made a move to stand, he took hold of your left wrist. Momentarily panicking, you froze and locked eyes with the oldest Swede.

"Thank you," Axel said, relaxing his grip until he was gently holding your hand. He raised it to his lips and placed a small kiss on the back of your hand. Axel's eyes closed as he released your hand, his chest rising and falling with gentle breaths.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away and turned to Oscar.

"Your turn."

You led Oscar over to the table and sat him down in a chair. In the florescent kitchen light, you examined his face. Oscar's wounds were minor and needed little more than antiseptic. When you were finished, he took both of your hands into his and kissed them, very much like his brother had done. These men made it harder by the minute to dislike them. They were strange and secretive, but they were also caring and grateful. You placed your hands on Oscar's shoulders and planted a kiss of your own on his forehead.

"Let's get Axel in a proper bed, and then I'll clean up Otto," you commanded as compassionately as you could. You wanted to keep in charge of the situation for as long as possible. Oscar nodded and walked with you over to the couch, taking Axel under the arms as you found purchase for your hands under his knees. Before you could begin to lift Axel's weight, a hand rested on your shoulder.

"No. I will do it." You looked up into Otto's piercing blue eyes. His face held the cold look that the brothers seemed to have trademarked, but his eyes told a different story. Otto's eyes held concern and compassion, not just for his brother, but for you. You tightened your grip and shook your head at him.

"Not a chance. You're hurt. I can manage with Oscar's help. Now, sit down and wait for me; I'll be back down in a minute," you said, sternly. You hadn't taken a look at his arm, yet, and you didn't want him hurting himself further.

You nodded to Oscar and the two of you carried Axel up to the guest bedroom. It was a slow and burdensome task. Carrying dead weight up a narrow flight of stairs was nothing to sneeze at. Finally, you and Oscar laid Axel gently upon the floral quilt of the guestroom bed. After a moment of deep, labored breaths, Oscar spoke up.

"I'll stay with Axel. You go take care of Otto. He needs your attention, (Y/N)," Oscar gave you one of his sly grins as he said that last part. Your face flushed pink at the unknown implications of his words. Quickly, you turned and left.

When you returned to the main living area, you saw Otto, sitting on the couch, his head reclined, very obviously fighting exhaustion. You lingered in the hall for a moment, watching his head bob like he was a child who begged to stay up past his bedtime. Glancing at the kitchen clock, you saw that it was a quarter to one in the morning. Deciding that it was best to get this over with and let Otto sleep for real, you stepped into the room and cleared your throat.

Otto's head shot up, eyes wide open. His crystal blue eyes locked in on your own, and you saw him visibly stiffen. Why was he so uncomfortable with you? You went to his side and sat next to him. Otto studied you silently as you prepared a square of gauze with antiseptic. When you reached up to clean his face, he flinched.

"Have I done something wrong?" you asked with a heavy sigh, casting your eyes to the gauze in your hands as they rested in your lap. For a moment, all you could hear was the ticking of the kitchen clock and your own heartbeat.

"No. I am tired," was all that Otto responded.

"I guess I should hurry up, then." Softly, you dabbed the cuts on his face clean, paying attention not to get antiseptic in Otto's eyes or mouth. He watched you intently during the process; not your hands, but your face. You pretended not to notice, instead focusing on the task at hand. When his face was done, you knew you needed to look at his arm.

"Tell me where it hurts," you murmured as you took his left hand and began to gently prod, moving down from his elbow. When you reached his wrist, Otto winced. You weren't surprised. His wrist was beginning to swell. You asked him to move it back and forth, to which he complied, grimacing all the while.

"Well, the good news is that it doesn't seem to be broken, but it is sprained pretty badly. I can wrap it and get you some ice for it, but that's about all I can do," you said, looking up into his face. You hadn't realized just how closely you were leaned in until that moment. Your noses were barely a centimeter apart. You could smell his sweat and his breath, and, truth be told, you weren't opposed to it. A small part of yourself suddenly wanted to close the gap between you, but you knew that would be beyond inappropriate.

" _Ja. Is, tack._ " Otto's words broke whatever spell had come over you. You stared dumbly for a moment, uncertain of what to do. "Eh, can I have ice?" he asked, again. You shook the cobwebs from your brain and stood.

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry. I guess I'm pretty tired," you responded. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ In the kitchen, you filled a dish towel with ice. You took a second at the sink to glance at Otto's reflection in the window. His head was down, but his eyes were wide open, almost as if he were in deep thought. A small calico rested in his lap, soaking up the attention he was giving her through long, gentle strokes down her back. _He's probably thinking about, what a fucking creep you are. Shhhhh. Go away._

You brought Otto his ice and wrapped his wrist to help keep the swelling down. As you bent over to clean up the mess of gauze you had made earlier while playing doctor, Otto cleared his throat. Startled by the sudden noise, you flinched. Otto held your gaze, momentarily. He was studying you, something all three brothers seemed to do all too often for your taste. He took a deep breath and then patted the couch cushion next to him, shooing away a cat.

"Come and sit. We should talk." His words surprised and confused you. What on earth could he want to talk about so seriously? You did as he asked and sat next to him, making sure to keep your back straight and your knees together. Otto considered his words carefully before continuing.

"My brothers and I like you, (Y/N). You are kind, but we have a dangerous job. We don't want you to be hurt. That's why we keep secrets," he explained. His words were halting and thoughtful. Otto took your left hand in his, turning to face you more fully. "You have secrets, too. That's okay. I won't ask what they are. Secrets keep us safe. Thank you." He finished his speech by kissing the back of your hand. His 'thank you' kiss was different than his brothers'. Otto gently kissed your hand twice and then pressed it against his forehead, almost like a nobleman pledging allegiance to a monarch. He was so sincere and heartfelt that you knew you could trust him.

"We should be getting to bed. It's late," you replied after a brief pause. There was so much more that you felt needed to be said, but you'd taken enough of an emotional beating for one day. You stood and waited for him to follow suit, but Otto stayed put.

"I'll sleep here, tonight. Oscar is probably already asleep in the bed," he said, rearranging the throw pillows in order to get comfortable.

"Let me get you a blanket."

"No need. I'm comfortable enough."

"Well, goodnight, Otto. I hope you sleep well."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had to be rewritten more times that I care to admit. I hope you guys enjoy it all the same!

You awoke early the next morning, turning over to read the alarm clock on your bedside table in the dim glow of dawn's first light. It read half past six. Barely rested, you sat up and wiped the sleep from eyes and nightmares from your mind. Nightmares were a common occurrence in your life. There was rarely a night where you didn't have at least one. You hated when you couldn't remember them, just waking up with a pit of emptiness or dread in your stomach. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you donned your prosthesis and your housecoat. The house was dead silent. No sound of movement from your tenants or the cats this morning. You took a moment to use the restroom before heading downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast. 

At the end of the hallway, you paused, listening for any sign that Otto was already awake. You heard no movement, so you tiptoed into the living area. Your eyes locked onto Otto. He sat on the couch, holding his head in his hands. It seemed as though he was rubbing the sleep away from his own eyes. He hadn't noticed you yet, and was dressed in only a set of white long johns. Otto's posture was hunched, like he was deflated.

"Good morning. I didn't mean to wake you up," you greeted Otto. The sound of your voice acted like an alarm clock to the cats resting on the back of the couch. They jumped up and began to dance circles around your feet, screaming loudly for you to feed them. The mewling acted as a call to action for the other cats as they appeared from all corners of the house. Rushing to silence them before they could wake up the other two Swedes, you quickly poured out six bowls of cat food, one for each cat. You folded up the empty paper bag and threw it away, making a mental note to go shopping today. 

"I was already awake," Otto replied with a small chuckle. "The cats were good companions during the night. They kept me warm."

"I'm glad to hear it, hon. I knew there had to be some reason I kept so many of them around," you responded, your back turned to Otto as you made coffee and got out your favorite cast iron skillet. His shyness from supper the evening before seemed to have melted away. You were glad of it. 

"'Hon?'" Otto asked with an edge of confusion in his voice. You turned to face him, eyebrows lightly furrowed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Otto was standing by the bookshelf as though he had been scanning your collection. At some point, he had redressed himself in his patched trousers, and green shirt with toggles down the front, his suspenders dangling from his waist.

"You called me 'hon,'" he explained.

"Oh, I didn't even realize I'd said it. Terms of endearment are so commonplace when you grow up in the south, they're practically hammered into me." You felt your face heat up at the implication of speaking to a man you hardly knew with such familiarity. You quickly added, "I didn't mean anything by it." _I hope he didn't think I was flirting. Was I flirting? Change the subject quickly._

"Do you like to read?" you asked, indicating to the bookshelf Otto was browsing. 

"Eh, no. I don't read well. I was looking at this picture. Is this your mother? She's beautiful." Otto picked up the picture of your mother and looked more closely at it. "You look just like her."

You turned back to the kitchen counter, pretending to busy yourself. You didn't want him to see the tears welling up in your eyes. Your mother was the most important person in your life. She was your best friend. After so many years, it still hurt that she was gone. 

"Yeah. She was beautiful, wasn't she?" You attempted to keep your voice even and calm, but you could hear the strain in your throat. Otto was silent. You didn't dare turn to look at him, but you could feel his eyes on your back.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). What happened to her?" Otto's tone was low and remorseful. You leaned against the counter, splaying your fingers out flat on the cool, smooth surface. It had been so very long since you had to say these words out loud. You hesitated too long. "You don't have to tell me, (Y/N). I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, Otto, it's okay." You dabbed the tears from your face with the collar of your housecoat and finally faced him. "She died in an automobile accident five years ago. The same one that took my leg. It was so sudden that I've never really gotten over it. That's not your fault, so don't apologize."

Otto placed the photograph back on the shelf, taking care to position it just the way he had found it. He stepped closer to you as you dabbed more tears away from your face, and held his arms open as if to embrace you. Otto stopped himself, as though he realized that a hug might be too personal for someone you had only met the previous day. You accepted his gesture without thought, before he could drop his arms completely. With your face pressed against Otto's chest, you realized just how long it had been since you'd felt human contact. You missed it more than you thought you ever would. His strong arms wrapped around you, feeling comforting and safe. 

A small shuffle sounded from the hallway as Oscar entered the living area wearing patched, black trousers and a brown sweater, in lieu of his milkman uniform. Otto and you jumped apart like there was a high voltage charge between you.

"What are you two doing in the dark, down here," Oscar asked playfully, flipping on the light switch nearest to him. The room had been dim in the early morning light, but it was far from truly dark. Now that it was lit by the living room lamps, your red, puffy eyes were obvious. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything important," Oscar's playful tone had become earnest as he studied your face.

You turned back to the kitchen and pulled eggs and bacon from the icebox, trying desperately not to let Oscar hear you sniffle or see you wipe your eyes. 

" _Vad hände, bror?"_ Oscsr spoke directly to Otto in Swedish while you went about preparing breakfast, making an effort to keep your back turned to them.

_"Inget hände. Vi pratade bara,"_ Otto responded. Then for your sake, he repeated himself in English. "We were only talking."

"It doesn't look like you were 'only talking' to me," Oscar's playful tone began to edge in again. Otto shot him a dark look that you didn't see, one that told him to drop the subject. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and sipped it for a moment while the bacon began to fry.

"Would either of you like a cup of coffee?" you asked, attempting to return to your hostess demeanor. Turning to the brothers, you saw them giving one another pointed looks from across the room. Otto nodded, taking a seat at the table and Oscar followed suit.

The three of you stayed in relative quiet company for the next while, the brothers sipping their coffee as you finished frying bacon and eggs. Just as you had finished plating up the last of the food, Axel walked into the living area. He was dressed and rubbing the back of his neck, head down, eyes barely open.

_"Vad är den lukten?"_ Axel mumbled, struggling to fully open his weary eyes.

"Good morning, sunshine! I hope you slept well. Would you like some coffee with your eggs?" you greeted Axel cheerily, all traces of tears gone from your face. His eyes met yours and it seemed like he finally fully remembered where he was and what was going on. You smiled and poured the coffee as Axel nodded to you and sat with his brothers at the table. 

_"God morgon, (Y/N),"_ he answered simply. You wondered briefly if his use of Swedish was by choice, or if his concussion had been more severe than you had originally thought. Taking your seat across from Otto, you began to pick at the apple slices on your plate. Honestly, you weren't very hungry, but it did your heart good to see the three men dig into their breakfasts. 

"How are you feeling this morning, Axel? You looked like hell when your brothers drug you through my front door last night," you asked over your coffee cup.

"Fine," Axel answered, speaking from the corner of his mouth to avoid spitting his eggs on the table. _Ah, so he can speak English. Good._ "How did you know what to do and why do you have so many medical supplies?"

The question was sudden and caught you slightly off guard. You patted your mouth with your napkin and responded honestly, "I have to keep such things on hand because of my amputation. Walking on a prosthetic limb can cause irritation and unless the issue is taken care of swiftly and thoroughly, infection can set in. I've grown quite accustomed to playing doctor to myself the past few years."

Your answer seemed to satisfy the oldest Swede, and so the table fell back into silence with the only exception being the sound of forks hitting plates. The brothers were quite obviously tense this morning. You bet it had something to do with whatever happened the night before. You could tell that they cared deeply for one another, so maybe the tension was just concern for their oldest brother's condition. One way or another, you were almost certain that they would be taking it easy today after their injuries last night. 

"If I might ask, what are your plans for today?" Breaking the silence, you smiled pleasantly at each of them.

"Rest," Oscar said, definitively as he locked eyes with Axel, challenging his authority. Axel stared daggers back at his youngest brother, but said nothing. Otto placed a hand on each of his brothers' shoulders.

" _Ja. Du måste vila och återhämta dig,"_ Otto said, calmly. He seemed to be a natural mediator. That was more than likely his curse as the middle child. Axel's steely blue eyes moved from Oscar to Otto. After a pause, Axel's expression softened.

"Okay. Rest."

"Well, since y'all are gonna rest today, can I ask one of you to come to the store with me this morning? I need to get some cat food, but it's too heavy for me to carry all the way home. A nice, strong young man would be appreciated," you said, throwing on a bit of your southern charm. The grocery boy, Benjy, usually carried the heavy sack of cat food the three blocks to your house. Benjy was the closest thing you had to a friend, here in Dallas. He was always friendly and kind to you, never staring or snickering. When Benjy first offered to carry the bag home for you, it acted as a catalyst for your friendship, allowing you to talk and have some form of positive human interaction on the walk home. But now, you had three strapping Swedes in your home.

"I'll go," Oscar piped up, "It's Otto's turn to watch over Axel, since I did it all night." Part of you had hoped Otto would be the one to go with you. It would have been nice to spend time with him alone, but you were glad that Oscar spoke up. You wanted him to meet Benjy.

_"Jag är inte ett barn och jag behöver inte en barnflicka,"_ Axel stated in annoyance. 

_"Nej, du är inte ett barn, men du är sårad. Någon behöver stanna hos dig idag om du skadas värre än vi trodde,"_ Oscar replied sharply, standing from the table and heading upstairs. You found yourself growing accustomed to only understanding half of a conversation.

The other men rose and went upstairs after Oscar. You sighed to yourself and cleared the table. As you washed the dishes, you could hear raised voices on the second floor, but you couldn't understand any of what was being said. You attempted to be polite, humming to yourself to drown out the sound of the family argument going on above you. When the voices settled, you went upstairs and quickly shut your bedroom door behind you. Their disagreements were not your business. You made your bed, picking up cats and placing them on the floor so that you could move the covers properly. Then you dressed and combed out your long, (H/C) hair. After an appropriate amount of silence from the rest of the house, you decided to wait for Oscar in the living room. 

You didn't have to wait long. He entered the living room a matter of minutes after you settled on the couch, petting cats. Oscar wore his coat and boots. With a smile he asked, "Are you ready?"

The walk to the shop had been nice. You and Oscar strolled side by side, carrying on a pleasant conversation. He liked to ask little, useless questions about you, and make jokes. You liked to hear him laugh and see him smile. Oscar became very familiar very quickly and you didn't mind in the slightest. 

At the shop, you chose the bag of food and Oscar strong-armed it up onto his right shoulder. You wanted to introduce Oscar to Benjy. Benjy was a little different than most people in Dallas. He was very handsome with thick, black hair that he kept neatly combed, green eyes, a dazzling smile, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Benjy received attention from many ladies in the neighborhood, but he seemed oblivious to their flirtations. You had a suspicion that Benjy was completely uninterested in women, especially after watching him interact with another attractive, young, male customer. You were less certain about Oscar, but there was definitely something different about him in a similar way. Although you knew it was wrong, this meeting was a sort of experiment for you.

You stepped up to the counter, smiling enthusiastically. Oscar set the bag down on the counter for a moment's rest while you spoke to the clerk.

"Good morning, Benjy. How are you?" you asked with somewhat too much excitement. Benjy didn't seem to notice as he wrote out your receipt and returned your greeting.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Who's your friend?" Benjy took a long pause to look Oscar over. Maybe too long of a pause. Oscar seemed to be just as interested in looking Benjy over. 

"This is Oscar. He and his brothers are staying with me while they're here, in Dallas." 

Benjy leaned over the counter and extended his hand to Oscar. "It's nice to meet you. I hope to see you around, Oscar."

Oscar took his hand and shook it politely. He squeezed Benjy's hand lightly and responded, "I hope to see you around, too, Benjy." Oscar flashed one last smile at Benjy, hauled the cat food onto his shoulder and led the way out the shop doors. 

There seemed to be a little extra pep in Oscar's step as you made your way back home. 

Once you were safely back inside the comfort of your own home, you got Oscar to leave the cat food in the kitchen and follow you out onto the back porch. Oscar gave you a wary look as you patted the seat next to you on the wooden porch swing. You sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before speaking. 

"What did you think of Benjy?," you asked Oscar, looking closely for any sign of recognition for where this conversation was headed. You got exactly what you were looking for when Oscar looked away and furrowed his brow.

"We barely spoke. What am I supposed to think about him?" Oscar asked, falling right into your trap.

"I reckoned that you would think he was attractive," you responded, giving him a playful nudge in his arm. Oscar's face began to flush into a fine shade of pink. It was difficult to discern whether his expression was one of embarrassment, fear, or anger. _Uh-oh. You've gone and crossed a line, girl._

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you, Oscar. I just know that Benjy was definitely interested in you. It's okay if you're into him, too. Being that way isn't anything to be ashamed of," you rambled. You knew you were rambling, but you couldn't seem to stop the word vomit spilling out of you. "Admittedly, I'm sort of that way, myself. I've always liked women like I've liked men. I don't know what you'd call that, but I guess it doesn't really matter-"

"Stop," Oscar said softly, putting a merciful end to your rambling. He sighed deeply before continuing, "I'm not exactly _that way_ , either. I like women. I just also like men. It's not as complicated as people think it is."

"I get that. Really," you said, "I'm attracted to someone, or I'm not. It's really just that simple. To be honest, I could tell Benjy was that way the first time I met him. I guess that's why I was friendly with him. I'm sure he doesn't have many friends that he can talk to about it, and I was hoping that I might become that friend."

Oscar shook his head and paused for a long moment before asking, "Do you really think I have a shot?"

You smiled broadly and patted his back as he continued to look far off into the distance. "Yeah, Oscar, I really do."

He smiled softly as he finally made eye contact with you. You really appreciated seeing this side of him. Usually he was very coy, but right now, you could tell he was being sincere with you and that meant a lot. How quickly these Swedish men worked their way into your heart. 

"I do have to ask, though," you said, breaking the easy quiet, "do your brothers know?"

"Yes," Oscar replied with a chuckle. "It is difficult to hide something like that from people you are very close to." His sly smirk had returned to his face.

"I wish I was that close with my siblings," you answered truthfully. "My brother and sister are over a decade older than me, not to mention that we have a different father, so we were never very close. You're very lucky to have Axel and Otto."

Just then, the back door swung open, and Axel and Otto stepped out onto the porch. 

"(Y/N), we are going to the sauna. Will you come with us?" Axel seemed relatively jovial. Well, as jovial as you had ever seen him. He wore a light smile on his normally stoic face. Otto stood just behind him, waiting for your response. 

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to get my prosthesis wet and I think a room filled with steam would be just as bad for it," you said. That was true, you weren't supposed to get your leg wet, but that wasn't the reason you turned down the offer. You weren't exactly comfortable with being virtually naked in a room with three other virtually naked men. 

"You can leave your leg outside," Axel offered, the smile growing on his face, "I'll just carry you inside."

You felt your face pale at the thought of a man you barely knew carrying you. Without your leg you would be helpless. Without clothes you would be so very exposed. Helpless and exposed were not feelings you liked to experience. You trusted Otto, but you didn't know Axel very well, and Oscar had a mischievous streak in him. Your mind raced with horrible scenarios of what could happen to you in such a vulnerable state.

"Axel, stop embarrassing the woman," Otto said in your defense. He didn't get it, but bless his heart anyway for trying. 

Looking at Axel, you knew Otto's interjection wasn't necessary. He saw just how mortified you were at the implication of it all. He read everything on your face. Axel nodded to you before turning to Oscar and saying, _"Oscar, skynda dig. Vi lämnar nu."_

Oscar stood, gave you a smile and a wave and disappeared inside the house. Axel followed close behind him. Otto put a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you certain that you don't want to go?" he asked, making a face that better fit a disappointed child than a fully grown man. 

"Yes, I'm certain. You boys go have fun." 

Your afternoon was spent soaking and scrubbing laundry. Such dull, laborious work, but it was a necessary evil. The bloodstain on Oscar's milkman uniform was giving you one hell of a time, making the process even longer. The task gave you plenty of time to think. 

Your mind wandered to the topic of the Swedes. They had only been in your life for 24 hours, but somehow it felt as though you had known them for years. Well, Oscar and Otto, anyway. Axel was a tough nut to crack, but his earlier quip about carrying you into the sauna gave you hope that he was coming around. You liked his smile and the timbre of his voice when he was joking. You liked that, when he realized he went a bit too far with his joke, he backed off, and didn't push you to do something you were uncomfortable with. When Axel smiled, he looked younger and even favored his youngest brother a bit. All good things. 

You couldn't help but remember their secretive nature, however. You didn't blame them for it because you had plenty of your own secrets. Your secrets hid a dark past, but their secrets seemed to hide a dark present. When they came home last night, they were in bad shape. _What could they have possibly been doing?_ Your stomach churned at the possibilities. 

It was obvious to you that they were dangerous people. At least, their occupation was dangerous. Otto had said so himself. He had also said that secrets kept you safe. _Safe from what?_ Were they bad people doing bad things, or were they good people doing morally questionable things for some higher reason? The longer you thought about it, the more distressing it was. 

You took a deep breath and quieted your thoughts. _Just trust them._ Otto had been so sincere when he spoke to you about their job the previous night. Your heart went out to him. But what, exactly did that mean?

Otto was sweet and honest. He seemed to always want to comfort you. However, he also seemed to be a bit less observant than his brothers. Oscar and Axel could practically read your thoughts, but Otto had to try much harder to read your expressions and body language. His shyness was endearing, and you loved that he seemed to be getting comfortable with you. You guessed all it really took was you caring for him and his brothers when they came home all beaten up.

Otto truly loved his family. You were actually jealous of their relationship with one another. The only person you had ever felt that close to was your mother. When she passed away, you took an unspoken vow to never let anyone that close to you again. You couldn't bare to go through that sort of loss and grief again. But, here you were, letting these three Swedish brothers work their way into your heart. 

Later, when the brothers came home, you had supper waiting on the table for them. The four of you sat down and enjoyed the meal together. Conversation was light hearted and easygoing. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits. Well, most everyone. Otto had gone back to his shy and awkward demeanor during supper. You briefly wondered if something had happened while they were at the sauna.

When all were finished, Axel stood and began to collect the plates and silverware from the table.

"Oh, no you don't!" you lightly chastised him, "That's my job. Why else would you keep me around?"

"I will handle this," Axel said cheerily. "Otto needs to have a word with you."

You were dumbfounded. Had something actually happened while they were out? Otto rose and opened the back door, gesturing for you to go through it ahead of him. _What on earth is going on?_

Once you were outside, you took your place on the porch swing and Otto nervously sat beside you. The air was thick and the only sounds were those of the crickets and the creaking of the swing. 

"What's wrong, Otto? Did something happen today?" You were trying to gently nudge him into the real reason he had wanted to speak to you in private. 

"No," Otto said, shaking his head. "I need to tell you something." Your breath caught in your throat at the conviction of his words. "I, eh, I have affections for you, (Y/N). Axel and Oscar said that I should tell you. It's up to you, whatever you do with that knowledge."

Your heart swelled in your chest as it hammered uncontrollably. You felt your face flush and your palms begin to sweat. Otto's beautiful blue eyes glanced into your own before darting to the floor. 

"Otto, darling, I have affections for you, too. I like you quite a lot, but I've never felt like this about someone, so I don't really know where to go from here."

Otto locked eyes with you as his expression lit up. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a little hug. Finally, he responded, "I'm very relieved to hear it. I would have been heartbroken by your rejection. We will figure out the next step whenever you're ready."

You rested your head on his shoulder and took his unoccupied right hand into both of your own. You ran the tips of your thumbs over his knuckles before lightly kissing them.

"I will never break your heart, Otto."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should have already said this, but I haven't, so I'm saying it, now: I don't speak Swedish in the slightest! I rely heavily on Google Translate, so please forgive me if the Swedish is awkward, or all together wrong. Please, enjoy!

You awoke to the grey morning light with the quickly fading memory of your nightmare. The nightmares that you could remember were always violent and disturbing. This one involved your father. He had found you in Dallas and wanted to make you regret leaving him. He chased you through a distorted version of your house while you struggled to run. At least you had both legs in your dream, you always had both legs when you dreamt. You tried to call out to Otto; if he were there, you would be safe. No matter how hard you tried, every scream came out as a muffled whimper. Your father caught you. His thick, calloused fingers wrapped in your hair as he pulled you against his body. The rest of the dream you would rather forget. 

A chill ran through you as you threw back the covers. It was a crisp November morning, for certain. You pulled on your prosthetic limb, and slid slippers onto your feet. Cold floors were somehow even less pleasant when you only had one foot. You wrapped your housecoat close around your body and let your hair out of the braid you had slept in. 

Otto had been a gentleman and slept on the couch again, last night. You knew that he desperately wanted to share your bed with him, but you weren't ready to cross that threshold, yet. Far too many things could happen when a woman allowed a man into her bed. Otto was kind and willing to go at your pace. However, he was still a man.  _ What if he had wanted to do more than just sleep? What if he had wanted to have… physical relations?  _ You didn't know if you'd have the voice to tell him 'no.' You didn't want to put him in that situation almost as much as you didn't want to be in it, yourself. Sex terrified you and you wanted to put it off for as long as possible. 

You went downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast as usual. When you entered the living room, you saw that the couch was unoccupied. Had Otto been in the bathroom and you just didn't notice? Was he with his brothers in the guestroom? 

You started the coffee and looked out the kitchen window, into the backyard. There he was. Otto stood in the back corner of your yard, with an axe in his hand and a split log on the tree stump in front of him.  _ What am I going to do with that man?  _ Otto was chopping wood, and, judging by the pile he had accumulated, he had been at it for quite some time. 

Once the coffee was done brewing, you poured about half of the pot into a thermos and headed out the back door with it. Hearing the door close behind you, Otto turned and waved. You made your way out to him, careful not to lose a slipper in the frostbitten grass.

"What in blue blazes are you doing out here, Otto? Are you trying to freeze? Where is your coat? Your wrist is still healing; are you trying to reinjure it?" You berated him with questions once you got within normal speaking range. Otto held out his arms in an 'I don't know' sort of gesture. 

"You can't freeze _en_ _svensk!_ We have Viking blood! We are strong, sturdy people, " He said, proudly puffing out his chest. "Winters back home are much worse. You should see one."

You giggled at his silly display. "Maybe I will, one day. But you still haven't answered me: what on earth are you doing out here cutting wood?"

"You didn't have any firewood. I thought it best to cut some before it gets colder," he answered, dropping the axe and wrapping his arms around you. He was putting off heat like a radiator and he smelled of sweat. You laid your head on his chest. 

"I can take care of myself. I have for a long time. Besides, the weather will be pleasant again by lunchtime," you responded, looking up at Otto with your chin resting on his chest. His grip around you tightened slightly, and he smiled down at you.

"I know you can, but you shouldn't have to. I've always had Axel and Oscar, and they have always had me. You had no one when we came here, but now, you have all of us. Let us help you. Let me help you,  _ älskling,"  _ Otto whispered before leaning down, ever so slightly, and planting a tender kiss on your forehead. Tears sprung from your eyes. You had been alone for too long. Before he could straighten back to his full height, you softly kissed his lips. Otto rested his cheek on the top of your head as you once again laid your head against his chest. 

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. His arms were so strong and warm, but the chill of the morning crept in through your housecoat. You remembered the thermos in your hand and pulled away from Otto.

"I brought you some hot coffee. I thought you might enjoy the relief from the cold," you said, offering him the thermos. Otto took it, unscrewed the lid, filled the little cup that came with the thermos, and offered it to you.

"I think you need this more than I do," he joked.  _ God, I love his smile. And his laugh. And his face, and his heart. Is this what love feels like? Or is this just a schoolgirl crush?  _ Otto watched your expression as it shifted from overjoyed to worried.

"What's wrong,  _ älskling?  _ Did I do something?"

"No!" you quickly interjected. "You haven't done a single thing wrong, Otto. I'm just cold. Let's go inside." If Otto could see through your lie, he gave no indication. He simply put his hand on the small of your back and guided you back inside the house.

You made a breakfast of pancakes and ate with Otto, enjoying your meal together. After breakfast, you and Otto sat on the couch, holding hands and listening to the radio. It was so peaceful. You soaked up every bit of attention he would give you. Good God, you were touch starved. Eventually, you were curled up next to Otto with your head on his shoulder as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"You're so sweet, Otto. You make me very happy," you sighed. Otto stopped petting your hair and shifted, causing you to sit up and look him in the face.

"(Y/N), you are kind and generous and loving. You make me want to be a better person. There are things I have to tell you, first. Things that you need to know about me and my brothers." Otto's tone was serious and his expression grave. 

_ "God morgon, kärleksfåglar." _ You both snapped your heads towards the hall entrance where Axel was standing. 

"Good morning, Axel," Otto replied, somewhat coldly. Axel stared him down for a brief moment. 

" _ Du vet att du inte kan berätta för henne, Otto. Om hon vet är hon ett hinder för uppdraget. De kan komma efter henne. Hemligheter skyddar oss _ ," Axel said to Otto in a calm, warning tone. 

"Otto, what did he say?" you asked, concerned that something was very wrong. You looked into his eyes and they told you more than his words did.

"He said that I can't tell you, now. Secrets protect us." Otto kept his cold tone, returning his gaze back to his older brother. He put his arm around you once more and drew you close to his side. 

_ Girl, what have you gotten yourself into? _

The rest of the day was quiet. Otto kept close to your side. It was as though he was afraid something would happen to you if you were out of his sight for too long. Axel also kept a close eye on you, no doubt to be sure Otto didn't spill the beans on whatever secrets they held. The air was heavy with tension. It was nearly suffocating. You were barely able to bathe and dress in private. You were being held prisoner in your own home for reasons you weren't even allowed to know. 

Oscar made himself scarce for most of the morning. He came downstairs long enough to eat breakfast in awkward silence before disappearing back into the guestroom. You wished that you could do the same, but Otto wasn't letting you leave him for more than ten minutes at a time. By mid afternoon, you had had enough. 

You told Otto that you needed to use the restroom and slipped upstairs as quickly as you could manage on your clumsy prosthetic leg. Instead of heading into the bathroom, you stopped at the door to the guestroom and knocked softly.

"Oscar, I need to talk to you. Will you go for a walk with me?" you whispered through the door. At first, you were afraid that he hadn't heard or that he was deliberately ignoring you, but eventually, you heard movement from within the room. The door swung open and Oscar nodded to you before heading down the stairs. You followed close behind him.

"Brothers, (Y/N) and I are going for a walk. She needs some fresh air away from you.  _ Ni skrämmer henne med ditt beteende _ ," Oscar stated matter-of-factly. Otto's face dropped as his eyes landed on you. You didn't know what Oscar had said, but it definitely affected Otto.

"(Y/N), I never meant to frighten you. I just want to keep you safe,  _ älskling _ ," Otto said, dejected. You stepped towards him and took his face into your hands. He looked up at you from his seated position on the couch while you lightly stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. 

"I know that you want to protect me, Otto," you said as gently as you could manage, "but I'm feeling a bit suffocated. I'm going to get a little exercise with Oscar, so that you and Axel can have a discussion while we're gone. I promise that we will be back within the hour." With that, you gave Otto a quick kiss and pulled away to fetch your coat. 

Axel had remained quiet for the majority of this encounter. He sat upright in the armchair, watching the scene unfold. He chose now to speak to Oscar.  _ "Se upp för henne. Har du din pistol?"  _ Oscar nodded curtly in response. 

Your ears pricked up. You might not understand Swedish, but you definitely knew the word 'pistol.'  _ Is Oscar armed? What the hell are they up to? _ Admittedly, you owned two revolvers: one that you kept in your nightstand and one that you kept in your coat pocket. You were a single, disabled woman in a decently large city, so you had to protect yourself.  _ Do the Swedes have guns strictly for protection, as well?  _ After all you had observed from them, you already knew the answer. The brothers you had grown to love so quickly were killers. This revelation didn't scare you, to be honest. If anything, the constriction in your chest felt more like sorrow.

You and Oscar walked side by side down the quiet street without a word between you. The autumn breeze kicked up orange and yellow leaves around your feet. After only three or so blocks, you needed to rest your residual limb. The change in the weather made your bones ache. You perched on a bench, folding your hands in your lap. The two of you sat together in silence, watching the children who were too young for school play on the sidewalks. This was a poorer neighborhood and many of its occupants were black or Hispanic. You loved to watch the little children play together. To them, your skin color didn't matter because everyone was poor.

"Why do you need a pistol, Oscar?" you asked in a calm, soothing tone as you kept your gaze on the children jump-roping.

"Why do you need one, (Y/N)?" he responded. You shot a glare in his direction and saw Oscar's signature smirk on his face as he also watched the children play.

"I have to protect myself. I won't let myself be a victim again." As soon as the words left your lips, you wished that you could take them back. You felt Oscar's eyes bore into, but you refused to so much as glance in his direction. "This isn't about me, this is about you and your brothers."

"What do you mean, 'again?'" Oscar asked in a hushed, private tone. You closed your eyes tight, and swallowed the lump in your throat. 

"I didn't mean to say, 'again,'" you whispered as you reopened your eyes. The children had moved on down the block, leaving the immediate street barren.

"We all have secrets, (Y/N). We have ours, and you have yours. Some secrets are dangerous if they're let out. Our secrets are dangerous. Our job is very important, but also very hazardous. We work for some… influential people, and those people will… eliminate any threats to our missions. If you know what our job is, you become a threat to our mission. That is why Axel doesn't want Otto to tell you. Not yet, anyway." 

Oscar's speech was slow and thought out. His words were carefully chosen. You could tell that he was trying to explain the situation to you without giving away too many details. Your mind was filled with all the awful possibilities.  _ Gangsters? Spies? Terrorists? Assassins?  _ You were knee deep in something you didn't even understand. 

Just then, a boy of about thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing a school uniform, sat down on the bench beside you. You felt Oscar tense up on the other side of you. The boy crossed his right ankle over his left knee and leaned back in the bench, laying his arm across the top of the bench, behind you. You turned to ask him why he wasn't in school, but when you looked at him, he was already staring at you. His blue-green eyes scanned you from head to toe before he brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and looked toward the street. You turned to your right to ask Oscar what was going on, but the intense look on his face made you stop.

_ "Hon ser inte ut som att hon tillhör kommissionen,"  _ the boy said, quite casually. His use of Swedish surprised you, but Oscar seemed unfazed. 

_ "Hon är inte. Hon har inget att göra med dem," Oscar replied.  _

You couldn't understand what they were saying, but you could understand their tone. The boy was arrogant and Oscar was cold. This boy looked like a young teenager, but he spoke with the authority of a fully grown man. 

_ "Vad gör hon här?"  _ the boy asked, taking another look at you. Out of discomfort, you shifted closer to Oscar, so that your hips were touching. Anything to get just a little distance between you and this peculiar boy. Oscar instinctively put his arm around your waist and pulled you in closer.

_ "Det är inget av din sak. Vad vill du?"  _ Oscar's replies seemed to be getting more aggressive as the conversation went on. You had to know what this was all about. 

"Oscar, what's going on, here? Who is this child and how does he know you?" you asked, desperate for some answer to this strange encounter. 

"I should be asking you those same questions, sweetheart," the boy spoke up before Oscar could come up with an explanation. 

"Leave," Oscar demanded. "I told you that she has nothing to do with this." And then directed at you, "(Y/N), go home. Tell my brothers to come immediately."

"Now, there's no need for violence, yet. I'm just here to find out why you were after my sister last night," the boy said, watching Oscar for an answer. You looked to Oscar as well, and watched his expression harden further, something you thought was impossible.  _ His sister? Was she the reason they came home all banged up? _

"We were following orders,  _ skitstövel,"  _ Oscar spat.

"No need for insults, either, Swede. You would lose that battle," the boy said, rising to his feet. He straightened the sleeves of his uniform before saying,  _ "Lämna min familj i fred, så får vi inga problem. Det skulle vara synd om något hände med din dyrbara flickvän här."  _ With that the boy walked across the street and seemed to disappear behind a parked car. 

Your heart was pounding and your mind was racing. Before you could fall too far into your existential crisis, Oscar pulled you into a hug.

"Don't let him scare you. He is dangerous, but we would never let anything happen to you," Oscar whispered into your hair. 

"What did he say, Oscar? I'm so scared and confused. Why did you have orders to go after his sister? Orders from who? Why won't you tell me anything?" Hot tears began to roll down your face as Oscar pulled away from you. He wiped your tears with a white handkerchief he pulled out of his jacket pocket. 

"Let's go home. You need to rest and I need to speak to my brothers."

Oscar led you by the hand back home. Once you were inside, he ushered you up to your room and told you to lie down for a while. You happily obliged. Your weary mind barely had time to process the sound of the door closing behind him before you fell into a dreamless sleep.

When you awoke that evening, the house was silent. You rose to your feet, taking small, ginger steps. It was never good to sleep in your prosthesis, it always hurt like the devil when you stood on it again. You crossed the hallway and knocked on the guestroom door, but there was no response, not even movement from the other side. You gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. No one. You made your way down stairs, only to find the living area empty as well. Looking out the kitchen window revealed that there was no one in the backyard or on the back porch, either. You were completely alone. 

You turned back to the kitchen table and realized that there was a note, there. The handwriting was rough and nearly illegible, but you could just make out the short message. 

_ (Y/N),  _

_ We have orders. We will return before sunrise. Stay inside, keep the curtains drawn, and do not answer the door for anyone.  _

_ Axel _

What the hell was going on here? You were just about done with their damn secrets. If it wasn't for the blossoming love you held for Otto, you would have told them to get out and not come back. Personal secrets were one thing, secret missions and unnamed, powerful people were another. 

You let out a heavy sigh and decided that you weren't going to bother with cooking supper since the Swedes weren't going to be there. Instead, you grabbed a book off of the shelf, grabbed Teddy from his perch on the back of the armchair, and curled up on the couch to read. With Teddy in your lap, a few of the other, more jealous cats joined you on the couch in order to get their fair share of attention. 

Not an hour later, there was a knock on your front door. It was dark by then and you hadn't turned on the light of your front stoop.  _ Who on earth could be visiting, now?  _ The kitchen clock read seven o'clock, sharp. You put down your book and went to the door, checking yourself in the mirror before turning on the outside light. You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the door knob. Axel had warned you not to answer the door, but why?  _ Oh, fuck him. _

You swung the door open with a smile and immediately regretted not heeding Axel's warning. Standing on your front stoop was a woman dressed in a large, iridescent purple overcoat, black satin gloves, and a small hat with a birdcage veil covering her eyes. Her makeup-caked face bore a forced, rather unfriendly smile. 

"Well, hello, there," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "Are you all alone?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" you asked, pulling the door closer to you so that you could quickly slam it closed, if need be. 

"Are you home all alone?" She avoided your inquiry with a question of her own.

"I don't really think that's any of your business, ma'am, but, no, I'm not." Her smile turned devious. 

"Oh, but I know that you are, since I watched your Nordic guests leave hours ago," she said, dropping the sweetness from her voice. "Why don't you let me in, so that we can have a little chat?" 

Your heart rate picked up speed. She had been watching the house and now she wanted you to just let her in? Not happening. You shut the door and locked it before grabbing your coat from its hook near the front door. If you were going to speak to her, it would have to be outside, and were at least going to be armed. Another knock rang out and you unlocked and reopened the door.

"If you have something to say, you can do it right here, on the front steps," you said, authoritatively. You stepped out the door and shut it tight behind you.

"Well, if that's how this is going to be, then okay. I came to tell you that those men you're harboring are quite dangerous, but I'm certain you've already figured that out for yourself. As we speak, they are infiltrating a party being held for the Mexican Consulate with orders to assassinate another agent who went rogue and his idiot brother," she said, speaking softly to avoid any eavesdropping passersby.  _ Rogue agent?  _ That had to be the boy from the bench, earlier that day. It would explain how he knew Oscar and possibly why he spoke such fluent Swedish.  _ But, agent of what? The FBI? The CIA? Does the United States government make a habit of hiring children as spies? _

"Now that that is out of your system, I think you should leave," you responded to the woman, slipping your hands casually into your coat pockets. 

"You should watch your back, young lady, and get rid of them as soon as you can." The woman turned on her heels and strolled away down the street.

As soon as she was out of sight, you rushed back into your house and locked the door. Then, you made a lap of the house, making certain every window and door was locked, and every curtain or blind was pulled closed. You settled in the living room, still wearing your coat, with only one lamp lit in the entire house. You stayed like that for an eternity, listening closely for any sound that might be out of place. 

You must have zoned out, or gone into a mental lockdown- you weren't entirely sure which-, when you registered the sound of the Swedes' milk truck pulling up. You glanced at the kitchen clock and saw that it was only a few minutes after nine. Jumping up off the couch, you snuck a quick look out the living room window to see Axel and Oscar supporting Otto as he limped toward the front door. You unlocked the door and flung it wide open, rushing to meet the three men at the street.

"What happened?" you asked in a loud, harsh whisper, although you knew you wouldn't receive an answer. Otto tilted his head up and looked you in the eyes. He forced a weak smile, but said nothing. 

You helped the three of them into the house and settled Otto onto the couch. Turning on the other living room lamp and the kitchen light, you could see that they were all in rough shape. The three brothers looked like they had taken one hell of a beating.

Otto had a bruise forming around his left eye, and a cut just above his right eye. He was having a hard time moving without grimacing, and you could hear a rasp in his breathing. You took off his cream colored tuxedo jacket, untied his black bowtie, and unbuttoned his vest and shirt. You weren't even going to ask where they had procured these clothes, but all three of them were wearing the same uniform. Underneath Otto's shirt, you could see a nasty, purple bruise forming under his ribcage, and red marks on either side of his neck and shoulders. He gave you another tired smile as you prodded his ribs, checking that none of them were broken. Thankfully, they weren't. You went about cleaning the cut on his face and made up an ice pack for his eye. You pointedly ignored his smile and made an effort to be quick and professional. 

Axel was next. He suffered some scrapes to his forehead, a cut across the bridge of his nose, and a bruise under his right eye. You cleaned him up, as well, before asking if he had any other injuries. When he shook his head, you moved on the Oscar. 

Oscar got away with little more than a lump on the back of his head, and a bloody mouth. You made him rinse his mouth out and took a look. The inside of his lips were cut up, but they would heal well enough on their own. You tossed a bag of frozen peas at Oscar and told him to ice his head.

You pulled the armchair around to face the three men on the couch and took a seat.

"A woman came by while you were gone. She said something about you three being assassins," you said, settling back into the chair with your arms crossed over your chest.

_ "För helvete!  _ I told you not to answer the door!" Axel's outburst might have startled you if it weren't for the fact that you were already angry.

"Listen here, you bastard. This is my house and I allowed you into it! I gave you a place to live, and you promised to be respectful, but what have you done, instead? You drug me into your crazy ass world of agents and assassins!" Sitting forward, you shook your finger in Axel's face.

"We let you live," Otto spoke up. His voice was weak and tired, and when you looked at him, his eyes were filled with hurt.

"What?" you demanded. 

"We usually take out the homeowner if we stay in a house like this during a mission. We broke the rules by letting you live," Otto explained. That took the wind right out of your sails. 

"Why? Why let me live, if murder is so routine to you?" Your eyes burned with tears as you stood and turned away from them. Even if they could hear it in your voice, you weren't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You heard Otto struggle to his feet behind you.

"Because I love you, (Y/N). I have loved you since I first saw you. We watched the house all morning before we knocked on your door. I saw the loneliness in your beautiful eyes. It took a lot for me to convince Axel to stay here without killing you. I told myself that I wanted to end your loneliness, but really, I was being selfish. You don't deserve any of this. And I don't deserve you, (Y/N)." Otto punctuated his speech by placing a hand on your shaking shoulder. When you felt his touch, you turned and gazed up into his eyes. There you saw a world of regret and guilt as his own tears trailed down his face. Your anger and resentment subsided, and you pulled Otto into a hug. You hadn't forgiven them yet, but you were trying to. 

"Otto, darling," you whispered into his chest, "I need to know what is going on. If your life is as dangerous as it seems, I need to know what to expect."

"We will tell you, but nothing that is said in this house tonight can ever be repeated," Axel stated. You had nearly forgotten all about Otto's brothers sitting only a few feet away. 

"You have to swear to us, (Y/N), on everything that you love, that you will take these secrets to the grave," Oscar added.

You wiped the tears from your face and pulled away from Otto's embrace.

"I swear."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and/or commented! Every little thing helps to keep me motivated. I need to put a WARNING, here. This chapter is going to get pretty dark with themes of sexual assault, PTSD, and a little sprinkle of depression.

You were sitting on the back porch with your new Swedish friends, lazily swinging. The breeze was warm, and the sun was bright. The four of you talked and laughed, simply enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, the sky darkened and a bone chilling wind swept over the porch. You looked up at the sky to see large, billowing, black clouds. 

You turned to ask the Swedes what was happening, but they were gone. In their place, there was a fox, a wolf, and a bear. All three creatures' abnormally large bodies were covered in silver fur, and their eyes were crystal blue. The fox blocked the door into the house, so your only option was to run out the screen door and into the yard. You felt like you were moving through molasses, but by some miracle, you made it through the door before one of the creatures could catch you. 

On the other side of the screen door, you found yourself running through a thick, dark forest. The trees loomed above you and seemed to shift their positions as you passed them. You could still hear the fox, wolf, and bear charging after you, so you continued to run, the brush scraping and cutting your bare feet. You tripped, falling to the forest floor in slow motion. 

You turned to see the fox towering above you, but instead of grabbing you, it kept running past you. Soon, the wolf caught up to the fox and swallowed it whole. The bear caught the wolf and swallowed it whole. Then the bear turned to you and attacked. 

Pinned to the ground, there was nowhere for you to go. You came to realize that it wasn't a bear on top of you anymore, but your father. You felt a scream catch in your throat as he tore at your clothes and leered at your exposed flesh.

You woke with a start. The bedroom was wrapped in shadows cast by the streetlamp outside. You had no real idea what time it was, but you knew that it was far too early to start the day. Your mind was swimming with images of your dream and pieces of the secrets the Swedes had revealed to you. 

_ Time travelers. Black clouds. Assassins. The hulking creatures. The Commission. A dark forest. The Handler. The wolf swallowing the fox. Killers. Your father. _

You squeezed your eyes closed in an effort to shut out the intrusive thoughts. You needed something- anything- to take your mind away from the nightmares. Putting on your leg, you decided to go downstairs and have a cigarette. You didn't smoke often, but you kept a pack in the kitchen drawer nearest the back door for occasions such as this. 

Otto was sleeping soundly on the couch as you passed by. His face was so sweet as he slept that you leaned down and softly kissed his forehead. As quietly as possible, you grabbed the pack of cigarettes and a book of matches, then slipped out the back door. 

The night was calm, but it was far from quiet. You could hear dogs barking and car engines in the distance as you sat on the porch swing and lit your cigarette. Taking a long drag, you savored the mellow taste of tobacco, and the small rush of nicotine through your system. 

The back door opened and you froze. 

"(Y/N)? What are you doing,  _ älskling?" _ Otto asked in a voice thick with sleep. "Are you smoking?" 

You took another long drag and exhaled before you answered, "I couldn't sleep. Sometimes a cigarette calms my nerves."

Otto came and sat beside you on the swing, throwing his arm around your shoulders. "Do you have trouble sleeping often, (Y/N)?"

"You could say that sleep and I don't exactly get along," you chuckled. "I have terrible nightmares. I've had them since I was a little girl, so you'd think I'd be used to it by now."

Otto pulled you in closer, leaning the back of your head into the crook of his neck. "What are your nightmares like? Talking about them could help."

You paused for a long moment, uncertain of whether you wanted to tell him or not. Finally, you decided to say, "They're always about me being attacked. Sometimes by animals, sometimes by strangers, sometimes by… my father." You waited for Otto's response with bated breath. 

"Is your father a bad man?"

"Yes, he is." You felt Otto's body stiffen beneath you. 

"Did he hurt you, (Y/N)?" 

You swallowed hard and took another drag. "Yes," you whispered.

"Did he hit you?" Otto asked, the strain in his voice becoming apparent. 

"No." 

Otto's body stiffened further, his voice barely louder than your own whisper. "How did he hurt you?"

You had never said it outloud. You had never had to. Your mother tried to protect you from him the best that she could. She even went to the preacher about it once. That's how the entire small town you grew up in came to know the open secret of your family. No one was ever able to help. There was no system in such a small, rural town that could take you away from him. When your mother tried to leave him, he somehow always found the two of you and brought you back home. 

"When I was young," you began, choosing your words carefully, "he would touch me. When my mother died, and she wasn't there to protect me anymore, he-" The words caught in your throat and tears stung your eyes. Otto squeezed you lightly, grounding you again. "He raped me."

"He will never hurt you again, (Y/N). Not while I'm beside you."

Your cigarette lay on the porch, extinguished and forgotten. Bitter tears rolled down your face as you sobbed quietly into Otto's chest. He held you tightly and made small shushing noises to comfort you.

After a long while, Otto spoke up. "Let's get you back to bed,  _ älskling."  _

You made no move to stand, but Otto did, continuing to support you with his arm. He pulled you into his arms and carried you like a bride back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You merely sobbed harder into his neck, clutching to him like a scared child. That was exactly what you felt like: a scared child. 

Otto laid you gently on your bed, but you couldn't make yourself let go of him. You needed him there with you. You needed his strength and his warmth.

"Please stay, Otto," you managed to whisper. He obeyed, taking a moment to remove your prosthesis before lying down next to you.

The sun shined brightly through your curtains when next you awoke. You could hear pleasant conversation and smell frying bacon wafting up the stairs and into the open door of your bedroom. You felt light and well-rested. It was the first time you had slept well in years. A black eyed susan stood in a small vase on your nightstand. You couldn't help but smile at the little wildflower, knowing that Otto had placed it there. 

You pulled on your prosthetic leg, stood and stretched. Despite the sunshine, it was another brisk morning. You quickly wrapped yourself in your housecoat and pulled on your slippers. The conversation carried on downstairs, but you couldn't make out any of the words.

As you stepped into the living area, you were greeted by the sight of Axel cooking breakfast while Otto sat at the table with a cup of coffee. As soon as he noticed you, Otto stood and pulled you into a warm hug. Leaning down, he gave you a kiss.

_ "God morgon, kärlek,"  _ Otto whispered, his white hair acting as a privacy curtain between you. Like this, it felt like you were the only two people on the planet. 

"Good morning, darling," you said, returning his kiss with a smile on your lips. 

"Ahem," you heard Axel clear his throat, but neither of you made a move to end your embrace. 

"Good morning, Axel," you said before giving Otto one last kiss and pulling away from him. Axel stood at the stove with his back turned to the two of, seemingly making an attempt to give you a bit of privacy. Looking around, there was no sign of the youngest Swede. 

"Is Oscar still asleep?" you asked, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and topping off Otto's. There was an awkward pause.

"Eh, no. Oscar left last night after you went to bed," Axel replied, plating the bacon and eggs.

"Well, where did he go?" you asked, curious, but not overly concerned. 

"He didn't say, but he's a grown man. He can handle himself," Axel replied with his signature apathetic look on his face as he placed the food on the table.

As though summoned by your conversation, Oscar walked through the front door, still dressed in the waiter's garb from the previous night. He headed towards the hallway, without so much as looking in the direction of the kitchen.

"Good morning, Oscar!" you called to him, making him freeze in his tracks. "Won't you join us for breakfast?"

"Eh, no. I've already eaten," he said and took another step towards the hall.

"And where have you been that you've already eaten breakfast?" you teased, watching him over your coffee cup. 

Oscar finally turned and faced the kitchen. He made eye contact with you and smirked. "I just took care of some personal business. Now, I need to bathe."

You chucked to yourself as Oscar disappeared upstairs to clean up. Otto and Axel made eye contact, communicating without speaking. Axel sat down next to you and cleared his throat.

"What was all that about, (Y/N)?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I'm not entirely certain, but I think our little Oscar went to visit a friend last night," you responded, keeping up the casual tone of the conversation.

"What sort of friend?" Otto interjected, clearly not picking up on the situation. 

"Well, darling, when we went out to buy cat food the other day, Oscar made a friend at the shop. He and Benjy seemed to get along very well. Benjy's house is the only place I can figure that he would go. Oscar definitely slept somewhere else last night, and if he ate breakfast there, too, I'd be willing to bet they were… ahem, romantic," you explained. You felt yourself blush as you studied Otto's face for any sign of understanding. Every bit of visible skin on Otto's body turned red as he caught on.

"I'm glad to see him making friends," Axel said simply.

Most of the day was spent cleaning the house. Work that was dreadfully boring when done alone was made rather enjoyable by the Swedes' company. You laughed and chatted, even taking a couple of opportunities to tease Oscar about his night out. That was until Axel brought up the fact that Otto slept in your room last night. You blushed fiercely and gave Axel a swat on his arm, all while vehemently denying that anything inappropriate went on. 

You went upstairs to change the sheets in both bedrooms, while Otto offered to vacuum downstairs for you. With six cats wandering around the place, vacuuming was a necessity, but you were likely to trip over the cord with your prosthetic limb, so Otto's offer was gladly accepted. Upstairs, you thought that you heard shuffling on the roof, but you couldn't be certain because of the running vacuum cleaner. While you were in the guestroom, stretched awkwardly over the bed in an attempt to pull the sheet evenly across it, you heard a dull thud over the sound of the running vacuum. The vacuum cleaner switched off and you could just make out shuffling in the living room. Then, you heard all three men move into action. They all met you at the door to the guestroom.

"What's going on, boys?" you asked, wiping sweat off your face from the exertion of making their bed. Axel moved past you and pulled their rucksacks out from under the bed, handing them to Oscar and Otto. 

"We have orders,  _ älskling,"  _ Otto stated, opening his bag, pulling out a Thompson submachine gun, and removing its drum magazine. Your blood ran cold and a pit of doom formed in your stomach as you watched Otto load the magazine and lock it back into place. Looking around, you saw Oscar loading a shotgun and Axel loading what appeared to be a 50 round box magazine for his machine pistol. The dread in your stomach rose up into your throat.  _ Something very bad is about to happen. _

"I don't feel very well," you managed to croak out before your knees buckled and the room started spinning. Otto managed to catch you with one arm before gently guiding you to the edge of the bed. 

"(Y/N), what happened?" Otto asked, the concern plain in his voice. You took his face into your palms as he knelt before you on the floor.

"Otto, darling, something terrible is about to happen. I can feel it. Please don't go," you begged him as tears welled up in your eyes. You had no idea what had come over you, but you'd learned well enough to listen to your gut. Otto closed his eyes briefly and placed his hands over your own.

"There is always the chance of something happening on a mission, (Y/N), but I promise you that we will be as safe as we can and take no unnecessary risks." You knew that Otto was attempting to be comforting, but his words did nothing to soothe the anxiety welling up in you. Otto removed your hands from his face and kissed each one lovingly. "We will be fine,  _ älskling. Jag älskar dig."  _ Then, he leaned forward and kissed your lips before rising to his feet, gathering his rucksack and rifle, and leading his brothers out of the house.

The pit of doom never left you. You were too distracted to get anything done, yet you were too anxious to sit still. You went out onto the back porch in order to smoke a cigarette and ease your frazzled nerves. Before you knew it, you had chain smoked five or six of the damn things. Nothing felt right. All you could do was pace the porch and wait for the sound of their truck to signal their return. 

After an hour and a half, your prayers were answered as you heard the truck pull up to the house. You rushed through the house and flung open the front door. Your stomach dropped. Otto came rushing past you into the house with Oscar in his arms. Axel pushed you back inside and slammed the door closed. 

As Otto laid Oscar down on the kitchen table, you could see just how bad it really was. Axel's belt was cinched around Oscar's thigh, his pants leg soaked in blood, and all that remained of Oscar's left leg was a bloody stump, ending just below the knee. 

_ Crushed bones and ripped flesh. Your foot wasn't supposed to be turned in that direction. Blood. Good, God, so much blood. Dirt and grit filled your mouth. Mama? Where was your mother? Glass shredded your forearms as you struggled to get free of the wreckage. Dull, all consuming pain. You screamed into the surrounding woods, hoping- pleading to God- that someone could hear you.  _

Blood rushed in your ears and your field of vision grew black around the edges as you stared at Oscar's mangled leg. Your body was numb and you couldn't even tell if you were breathing. You saw Axel's mouth move as he shouted at you, but you couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Otto came into your line of sight. He took you by the shoulder and shook you gently. Otto's touch snapped you back to the present.

"(Y/N), come here, hold his shoulders," Axel commanded. You went to Oscar and propped his head and shoulders up against your abdomen. Looking down at his limp, unconscious form, Oscar looked more like a child than a man. His face was serene: eyes closed, lips slightly parted. You might have thought he was merely sleeping if it wasn't for the dreadfully white pallor of his face. 

"(Y/N), you will have to hold him down. He's probably going to wake up and scream and fight you, but you have to hold him as still as you can. Do you understand?" Axel said, peeling the cloth that had been used to stanch the bleeding away from Oscar's stump. You nodded, taking a moment to slip a thin roll of clean gauze that Axel had strewn on the table between Oscar's teeth, before taking his hands in your own and wrapping your arms tightly across his chest.  _ "Otto, klädjärnet." _

You weren't sure when the clothes iron had been placed on the stovetop to heat, but you watched as Otto brought it to Axel, a towel wrapped around the handle in order for it to be held. You felt the bile begin to rise in your throat, knowing exactly what Axel was about to do. You couldn't look away as he pressed the hot iron to Oscar's bloody leg. Oscar let out a harrowing scream as he attempted to get away from Axel and his damned iron. Otto held his legs in place and you wrapped yourself tighter around the wounded man. 

Fortunately, Oscar passed out again fairly quickly. Axel gave the iron back to Otto, who placed it once again on the stovetop and grabbed the second clothes iron, waiting for just that purpose. The process felt like it went on for an eternity, but eventually, the bleeding from Oscar's leg had been stopped. 

You watched Axel clean and bandage what was left of Oscar's leg. You were numb in both body and mind. You stayed tightly wrapped around Oscar, although it was no longer necessary. You stayed like that until Otto carefully peeled you away from his brother and guided you to the couch. You watched as Otto and Axel carried their brother's unconscious body upstairs.

Your body went into autopilot once they were out of sight. You cleaned up the gauze and bloody cloth from the table, and you turned off the stove. You scrubbed the blood from the wooden surface of the table, then you scrubbed the blood from the tile floor of the kitchen. You ignored the pain in your leg as you knelt on the floor, focusing only on the task at hand. When Otto returned, he found you with a bowl of soapy water and a scrub brush, surrounded by rust colored suds. 

He pried the brush from your grasp and pulled you to your feet. Otto's large, gentle hands guided you to the couch, once more. He sat down and pulled you into his lap where he held you as close to his body as humanly possible. Somewhere in your fried brain, it registered that he was sobbing, but you couldn't force yourself to move, no matter how badly you wanted to hold him.

"I'm so sorry,  _ älskling.  _ You were right, and I didn't listen. Now, Oscar might die.  _ Förlåt mig snälla _ . Forgive me, please," Otto sobbed into your shoulder. When you gave no response, nor so much as moved a muscle, Otto held your face and looked into your eyes. "Älskling, are you alright?" 

When your eyes finally met Otto's baby blues, it was like a switch being turned on. The shock melted away, and in its place, was horror and fear. Although you were exhausted, you were confident that there would be no sleep for you later tonight. You buried your face into the crook of Otto's neck, trying to fight the flashes of gore in your mind.  _ Shredded flesh and shattered bone. Pain, horror, desperation.  _

"Otto," you whispered into skin, "you've seen a lot of death and pain, right?"

" _ Ja.  _ More than many men see in a hundred years of life," he responded. You looked up and locked eyes with him. There was so much guilt and hurt in his eyes; you knew he'd never forgive himself for what happened to Oscar.

"How do you make it go away? How do you stop seeing all of it every time you close your eyes?"

"It's different,  _ kärlek,  _ when you don't know them. They're just another part of the job. A part of yourself turns off when you have to do and see those things. When it's someone you love," Otto stopped to clear his throat, "I don't know what to do. It isn't so simple."

"When I saw Oscar's leg, I couldn't help but remember the car accident. All the pain and panic just came flooding back. I pray that he doesn't have those memories. I pray that this doesn't kill his spirit. That would be worse than death. Just laying there, wishing that you were dead instead of being a helpless cripple. I know all too well what that feels like. Whatever happens, Otto, we have to be there for him. We can't let him think that he is alone."

Otto closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against your own. His answer was so low in volume and pitch that you would have missed it if it weren't for your extreme proximity. 

"I know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short absence. I needed to take a couple of days for my mental health because I've been having a hard time lately. Thank for your patience! This chapter is also kind of dark. Sorry, guys.

The silence of the house was oppressive. You stood at the stove, scraping and scrubbing away at the blood and flesh left behind by Axel's impromptu cauterization of Oscar's leg. You tried desperately not to think about the actual event that occurred last night. The brothers needed you. You couldn't afford to slip into a catatonic depression. Your mind instead wondered back to the conversation you'd had with Axel in the wee hours of the morning.

You rapped lightly on the doorframe as you entered the guestroom. You had hoped that Axel would pass out from exhaustion just as Otto had done only minutes ago, but you knew that wasn't going to happen, no matter how badly Axel needed rest. Axel looked away from his brother's still form on the bed, and met your gaze. His blue eyes were stormy, and the lines on his face seemed deeper somehow, making him look like an old man. Axel returned his sights to his brother and slumped back in the wooden chair he was nestled in. 

"I've been afraid to look away from Oscar for too long," Axel said, his voice low and gruff from exhaustion. "I'm afraid that, if I do, he'll stop breathing and I'll lose him forever."

You crossed the room to Oscar's side. He still looked so young and peaceful. His breathing was slow, but steady. You brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face, and planted a light kiss on his forehead. You turned to Axel and pulled up a small, wooden stool next to his chair.

"Axel," you asked, sitting down next to him, "will you tell me what happened? I see the guilt in Otto's face, and I can't bring myself to ask him."

Axel crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch his brother. You studied his face in the low lamp light, looking for any sign that he had even heard you. Just when you had decided to ask again, Axel spoke up.

"We were in the forest, following coordinates given to us with our orders. Supposedly, those coordinates were where our target could be found. The next thing I know, Oscar had spotted a knife stuck into a tree. The knife belonged to our target. Oscar took a step closer, I guess to retrieve it, but he tripped a landmine. Otto heard the pin pull, and grabbed Oscar by the back of his coat to pull him out of the way. He just wasn't fast enough. The mine blew Oscar's foot clear off. Oscar screamed these horrible fucking sounds. I wrapped my belt around his leg like  _ en tryckförband. _ What's the word? To stop the bleeding. Otto grabbed him and ran the kilometer or so back to the truck with Oscar in his arms. I just barely kept up with him. I drove back here, and that's the story."

You reached over to Axel and laid your hand on his arm. He unfurled his arms, and you took the opportunity to take his hand in yours. You sat quietly, just holding hands for quite some time. You brought Axel's hand up to your lips, then patted his knuckles. You stood and slid your stool in front of Axel. One by one, you unlaced and removed his boots, then propped his feet up on the stool.

"You don't have to carry the burden of the world alone. Let the people who love you help you. Goodnight."

You went upstairs to check on the brothers once you had finished cleaning the stove. Axel was still propped up in his chair next to Oscar. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but you couldn't be certain if it was from a lack of sleep or from crying. Otto was knelt on the other side of the bed, holding Oscar's limp hand. His head was down as though he was praying or lost in deep thought. You stood in the doorway and watched Oscar's chest rise and fall.

You couldn't imagine what they were going through. You had lost your mother in a horrible, life changing event, but you had never watched a loved one suffer. Nor had you ever felt like the blame of such an event laid squarely on your shoulders. These men loved one another so very deeply. You had only known them for a handful of days, so you felt as though your own grief was trivial compared to theirs. 

That was something that still baffled you. It had only been five days since Axel, Oscar, and Otto had shown up on your doorstep. Five days. And yet, somehow, they felt like the family you never had. Somehow, they made you care for them- dare you even say, love them. 

Everyone had at least one event in their lives that divided that life into two parts: before and after. There was your life before the accident, before you lost your mother and part of your own body, and your life after the accident. Now, there was your life before you met the Swedes, and after you met the Swedes. You just knew that life was never going to be the same. It couldn't ever be the same, not after falling so fast and so hard for Otto and his brothers, not after having such deep secrets as time travel and mercenaries revealed to you. 

"Any changes?" you asked in a low, quiet tone, almost afraid of disrupting the sanctity of the situation. Axel's eyes flickered to you and then back to Oscar. He slowly shook his head. Otto stood and pulled you away and into your own bedroom. Once the door was shut, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your hair. 

"I'm going to take Axel to the sauna," he finally said, swaying gently side-to-side as he held you. "Will you stay with Oscar and care for him while we are gone?"

"Of course I will, darling, but why? Do you really think it's a good idea to leave him right now?" You pulled away from Otto just enough so that you could look him in the eyes.

"No," he replied somberly, "but something has to be done for Axel's sake. He can't continue like this; he's not sleeping, not eating. At this rate, I will lose both of my brothers and I cannot bear that."

"Otto, don't say things like that, everything is going to be alright. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but everything will be alright." You let out a heavy sigh and shook your head. "If you think that the sauna will help Axel, I will stay and watch over Oscar." 

Otto pulled you into a deep, loving kiss. Your fingers brushed through his platinum hair as he hugged you closer, running his hands up your back. 

"What have I done to deserve you,  _ älskling?" _ Otto murmured into your lips. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"And I love you, Otto," you whispered back, breathlessly. Otto kissed you one last time before going to gather his older brother. 

It took the force of an army- or at least the force of one very persistent brother- to pull Axel away from Oscar's bedside. After many firm, but loving words, Otto finally convinced Axel to go with him, or else risk his own health and sanity by wasting away next to Oscar. With the front door securely closed behind them, the silence of the house was oppressive yet again. 

You sat by Oscar's bed in the very same chair where Axel had held his vigil through the night. The silence was overwhelming. The silence gave you far too much time to ponder on the atrocities of your life that led up to that moment. To combat the silence, you decided to read aloud. What better way to fight off depression than with the high fantasy world of J. R. R. Tolkien's  _ The Hobbit _ ? 

Just as you were finishing the first chapter, a knock sounded from the front door. You listened, hoping that whomever it was would go away. When the knock came again, you decided to go and peek through the curtains to see who was there. You tread as softly as you could down the stairs and across the house, pulling the curtain aside just enough to see the front door. Yet another knock came as you laid eyes on Benjy at your front door.

You quickly went to the door and swung it open, greeting Benjy with a (hopefully convincing) smile.

"Hey, hon, what can I do for you?" you asked, keeping the door only as wide as it needed to be in order for you to speak to Benjy. You couldn't risk him seeing any possible blood stains that you missed in your cleanup efforts.

"Hi, (Y/N), is Oscar around? We had plans this morning, but he didn't show up," Benjy said, mild concern etched on his face. Your heart pounded.  _ What the fuck do I tell him? _

"Well, darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Oscar had a hunting accident yesterday," you said, deciding that a modified version of the truth would be the best way to go. "He's hurt pretty badly, and we don't know if he's going to be okay."

Benjy's face contorted into a grimace. "If he didn't want to see me again, he should have had the gumption to tell me himself, instead of sending you to make up some hair brained lie to cover for him," he spat, turning to no doubt storm away. You caught him by the arm.

"Hold up, Benjy. I'm telling the truth. Oscar really seems to like you and he'd be devastated if he knew you thought so little of him." You felt your face grow hot as your temper flared. Benjy might have been your friend, but he had no right to talk about Oscar like that, especially with Oscar laid up, unconscious. "You can come up and see him, but you can't stay long. His brothers would skin me if they knew I let a stranger in the house while they were gone."

"He's here? If he's hurt so badly, why isn't he in a hospital?" Benjy asked.  _ Well, you got a point there, bud. _

"It's kind of complicated, Benjy. I'm not sure that I could explain it if I tried."

"But, I can see him?"

"Yeah, come on, but like I said, you can't stay long."

You led Benjy into the house and up the stairs. You stopped him on the top step.

"Now look here, Oscar is hurt real bad. It's not very pretty. He isn't even awake right now. I just need you to be prepared before you see him," you warned. Benjy nodded gravely. 

You stepped just inside the guestroom and ushered Benjy in past you. As soon as he entered, Benjy's eyes were glued to Oscar. He slumped into the chair by Oscar's bed and took hold of his hand. Tears began to stream down his face as he kissed the back of Oscar's hand. Then he looked up to you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water.

"What happened?" he finally managed to say in a harsh whisper. 

"I don't really know," you lied.

Your heart broke as Benjy's large green eyes pleaded for answers. You knew that his world had just been turned upside down. "Look, if this is too much, I'm sure he'll understand. I know you only just met-"

"It's not," Benjy interrupted, "it's not too much. Have you ever experienced love at first sight? I know it's cheesy and cliche, but my life was changed when you introduced me to Oscar. I can't just move on, especially with him like this." You did know. You had fallen so fast for Otto that it could only be described as love at first sight. Yet another person had been sucked in. There was just something about these Swedish boys. 

"Benjy, I think it's time for you to go," you said benevolently. Benjy shook his head vehemently and gripped Oscar's hand even harder. "I told you that you couldn't stay. Say goodbye for now, when he's awake, I'll let you know so you can see him again." 

He leaned forward and kissed Oscar's slack lips, then let himself out the same way he came in. 

Otto and Axel returned that evening, coming up to the guestroom and retrieving their weapons. 

"What's going on, Otto?" you asked, jumping to your feet. Otto made an effort not to look you in the eyes.

"We know where to find the  _ jävel  _ responsible for this," he answered coldly.

"No! You promised me, Otto, that you wouldn't take any unnecessary risks!" You snatched the rucksack out of Otto's hands. Otto took a hold of your right bicep and squeezed just enough to make you drop the bag.

"This is necessary, (Y/N)." Otto finally looked you in the eyes. All of his pain and frustration was held in those eyes, boring into you, pleading with you to understand. You turned to Axel, looking in vain for someone reasonable to back you up, but all you saw was his usual stony countenance.

"Let go of me," you said through gritted teeth. Otto didn't let go. He pulled you closer to him and wrapped his hands around your waist. Bitter tears streamed down your face. "You don't have to do this, Otto. Revenge isn't going to bring Oscar's leg back. It isn't going to fix this."

"You can't tell me that you wouldn't take the opportunity to make your father suffer," he countered.

"How fucking dare you. This is nothing like that. Go satisfy your bloodlust if you have to, but don't you ever try to use my past against me. You bastard! I told you that in confidence and now you're trying to throw it back in my face," you screamed in Otto's face as he continued to hold you. His expression dropped as he realized what a mistake he had made. Releasing you, Otto took a step back with his head down.

"Forgive me, (Y/N), I shouldn't have said that, but I have to do this."

The two brothers left just as quickly as they had come, leaving you to sob next to the unconscious Oscar. 

After some time, you gathered yourself. Sitting and thinking as you watched over Oscar, you began to feel a bit foolish. You knew that Otto wasn't trying to hurt you when he brought up your father. He had been telling the truth: you couldn't tell him that you didn't want to make your father suffer for everything he had done to you. You had lashed out at Otto. He was right when he had said that he didn't deserve you, he deserved far better than you. You were an insecure, emotional wreck. Crying might as well have been a pastime for you.  _ I'm so fucking stupid. _

It was time to change Oscar's bandages, something that you were not looking forward to doing. Changing a bandage was nothing outside of your abilities, but you knew what horror laid beneath that bloody gauze. You took deep, even breaths, preparing yourself as you cut away the soiled dressing. Underneath, you stared at the raw mess of flesh. It was bleeding and secreting clear fluids, all good signs. That meant proper blood flow and no infection. You soaked a layer of gauze in Dakin's solution that you had prepared the night before, then wrapped it around Oscar's leg. You sent up a little prayer, hoping that it would help stave off infection. Then, you wrapped his leg again in several layers of gauze, taping it all together as gingerly as you could manage.

As you were clearing away the dressing supplies, you turned your back to Oscar just long enough to discard the soiled bandages. 

"(Y/N)?" Your heart leaped out of your chest as you swiveled around to see Oscar's eyes open and fixed on you. You rushed to his side and perched on the edge of the bed. "Where are Axel and Otto?"

"They're out taking care of business, sweetheart," you answered, half lying. You brushed Oscar's hair away from his face and leaned down to kiss his head. 

"I'm so thirsty. Can I have some water?" Oscar's voice was weak and thick with sleep, his accent particularly strong.

"Of course, baby. Is there anything else you want?" Oscar shook his head slowly, his eyes heavy and weary. You planted another kiss atop his head, and hurried down the kitchen.

Quickly, you grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water from a pitcher that you kept in the fridge. You paused for a moment, contemplating. Oscar said that all he wanted was water, but you knew his body needed something a little more in order to start healing properly. You had fixed a pot of vegetable soup earlier that day, hoping to get Axel and Otto to eat. The untouched soup pot still sat on the stove, warming. You took a coffee mug and ladled a bit of the soup's stock into it. Hopefully, the broth would be just what Oscar needed to jumpstart his appetite without making him sick.

You set the water and soup broth down on Oscar's nightstand and helped him carefully sit up, tucking as many pillows as you could behind his back. Resuming your place on the edge of the bed, you coaxed a few sips of water down Oscar's throat. He smiled weakly up at you and took your unoccupied hand into his, bringing it up to his lips.

"Thank you,  _ sära vän.  _ I owe you so much."

"You don't owe me anything, Oscar. Not a damn thing."

"I owe you for your care, for your friendship, for your love of my family. In such a short time, you have become very dear to us. You are like the sister we never had." Oscar scoffed lightheartedly before adding, "Although, being our sister would make your relationship with Otto a little more complicated."

You allowed yourself a little chuckle before offering Oscar the mug of broth. Once he had managed to swallow a few sips, you asked, "Sweetheart, do you know how badly you're hurt?"

You knew that it was obvious that he was injured, but you wondered just how aware he really was. Instead of being concerned about his own wellbeing, Oscar was thanking you for being his friend and making jokes.

"I know well enough," he responded, still somehow smiling. "I don't remember much, but I have a few pieces. I found the knife stabbed into the tree. Otto carried me through the woods. You held me. I know it's gone."

"It's going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" You didn't realize just how difficult it was going to be to talk to him about it.

"Of course it is. I still have my life. I still have my family. One day, I'll have a fake leg like yours, and the world will continue as it always has," Oscar responded. 

"You're so much stronger than I ever was or will be, Oscar. I'm so glad that you're still positive after everything." You brought the broth back up to his lips, but Oscar turned his head, refusing to drink any.

"You never told me what happened to your leg, (Y/N). We have something in common, now," this man's smile was unwavering. You knew he was in excruciating pain, but he didn't show it in the slightest. 

You set down the mug and took Oscar's hand, running your thumb across his knuckles as you inhaled deeply to prepare yourself. 

"My father is not a good man. My mother tried to leave him so many times, only for him to catch up to us, somehow, and force us back home. It was two days after my eighteenth birthday, the last time she tried to take me and leave him. This time, he caught her in the act of packing the car, so she drove away as quickly as possible. He followed. My mother was so desperate to get away, that she was driving erratically on the narrow, winding roads. She lost control, and the car barrel rolled. 

"My mom died almost instantly, and my leg was crushed. Every bone in it was broken. I can remember so clearly. I was so desperate to get out of the wreckage that I twisted around in my seat and attempted to crawl out of the window. When I couldn't get out, I looked down to see my trapped foot still facing forward, while the rest of me was turned backward. I knew right then that it was lost.

"My father was nowhere in sight. I later learned that he watched us wreck and kept driving, hoping that it had killed us both. I screamed into those woods, begging for God to end the pain, but He never did. I was taken to the hospital three hours later, where the pain would continue for two more months. 

"When I was released from the hospital, there was nowhere for me to go. I have an older half sister and an older half brother, but they lived so far away that I hadn't seen them in years. Hell, they probably didn't even know about the accident. I seriously doubt my father told them. My father's house was the only place that I could go. 

"Crippled, and bedridden, he broke down the last shred of humanity I had left. My mother wasn't there to protect me anymore and I couldn't protect myself. I gave up on life for a while, but I finally got my spark back when my mom's friend came to visit one day. She told me that some people in the town had been secretly raising money for a doctor for me. The doctor started visiting me with her while my father was at work. He got me into a prosthesis and taught me how to walk with it. After four long years of being trapped in that house with my father, I was finally able to leave. And that's exactly what I did. 

"Hopefully, it won't take four years to get you into a prosthesis, Oscar. You've got a lot more fight in you than I ever did. I bet you'll get a leg within the year."

Oscar had remained quiet as you spewed your life story out to him. Once you were finished, he feebly patted your hand, and said, "You should give yourself more credit, (Y/N). You're stronger than you think you are. After everything, you had every excuse to grow into a bitter old woman, but you didn't do that. You took care of the strays. Stray cats and stray people. That's what we are: strays. We had no home, now you are our home."

Lost for words, you simply stood and adjusted Oscar's covers, pulling out the creases you had made from sitting on the bed. You sat back down in the wooden chair, and picked up  _ The Hobbit. _ Turning to the marked page, you began reading out loud where you had left off earlier in the day.

After a few minutes, Oscar interrupted, "How are my brothers taking it? What happened to me."

You knew that he was asking you because Axel and Otto would never tell him the truth of how they felt. You took a deep breath and explained, "Not very good, Oscar. Neither of them have eaten, and Axel hasn't even slept. I think they both blame themselves in some form or fashion. Axel has gone back to being closed off and reserved. Otto… Otto is doing whatever he can in order to not feel helpless, and I'm not helping the situation."

Oscar shook his head and smiled at you. "Otto feels things so very deeply. When he feels sorrow, he feels it with every part of himself. The same with love. He really does love you, you know?"

You nodded, looking at the floor. You knew that, somehow despite everything, he did love you. He also loved his family. His little brother who lay before you, maimed for the rest of his life. You knew that he blamed himself for that. You knew that he would do anything for those that he loved. You knew you shouldn't hold his want for revenge against him, but you did. Did that make you the bad guy?

"I think you should rest, sweetheart. I'll be right here if you need anything." Oscar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. You watched his ashen face for a moment, taking in just how simultaneously young and world weary he looked. Then, you resumed reading aloud. 

Hours had passed since Otto and Axel had left. You did your best to stay distracted, but you couldn't help but worry. After what happened to Oscar, you had a sinking feeling that something had now happened to Axel or Otto. You would be destroyed if either of them were hurt, or worse. You couldn't begin to imagine how that would effect Oscar. He was already in a fragile state, no matter how strong he acted. 

Oscar bolted upright out of a dead sleep, screaming. You knew exactly what was happening. You took his hand in both of yours, squeezing gently. 

"Breathe, Oscar. You have to breathe through it. I know it hurts. I know, but you have to breathe. Do it with me, okay, sweetie?" You took a deep breath in through your nose and let it out slowly through pursed lips. Oscar took a jagged breath in, and let it out shakily. "Very good. Let's do it again."

The two of you breathed together for a couple of minutes until the pain subsided. When Oscar was finally able to, he laid back down and looked up at you with tear filled eyes. You brushed sweaty hair away from his face, and squeezed his hand again. 

"What was that?" Oscar asked, out of breath. 

"That was phantom limb pain, Oscar. It's horrible and frustrating, but it will get better with time. I get it, too, but it's never that bad anymore. I promise it gets better," you said, running your fingers through his hair again. 

"How can it hurt so badly when it isn't even there?" Oscar asked, closing his eyes tightly and baring his teeth as he shifted his leg ever so slightly on its pillow. 

"I wish I knew, darling."

You heard a commotion down stairs as Otto and Axel finally came home. You waited on them to come upstairs, all the while holding Oscar's hand and petting his sweat drenched head. You could see Axel reach the landing at the top of the stairs through the open bedroom door, with Otto hot on his heels. Axel entered the room, but Otto hurried into the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind him. 

Axel dropped his rucksack and rushed to Oscar's side, practically knocking you out of the way in his haste. He knelt down by the bed, tears streaming down his face. 

_ "Broder, jag trodde att du aldrig skulle vakna,"  _ Axel whispered before shouting,  _ "Otto, kom hit! Oscar är vaken!" _

A loud bang sounded as Otto flung the bathroom door open, causing it to slam into the wall. Dressed in only his long johns, Otto raced into the room and knelt down on the opposite side of Oscar's bed from Axel. Otto, too, wept as Oscar placed his hands on the back of his brothers' necks. 

"Shame on you for thinking I'd die so easily," Oscar said, ever facetious, despite the weakness of his voice. You stood back in the corner of the room, watching the brothers in their reunion. You smiled to yourself and quietly made your way to the door in order to give them some privacy. 

"Where are you going?" Otto asked, looking at you with red, puffy eyes. 

"Oh, I thought you might want some time alone together. Just the family, you know?" you explained with one hand already resting on the doorknob. 

_ "Struntprat.  _ You are family, (Y/N). I don't know why you would have kept us around so long if you weren't," Oscar smirked at you and let out a light chuckle. 

Later that night, you laid in Otto's arms, side by side, atop your bed with a cat pressed against your leg, purring loudly. Otto ran his fingers through your hair as you studied every small feature of his face. You became familiar with every freckle, every eyelash, every line. You reached up, and caressed his face, running your fingers lightly over his scar. Otto turned his head and kissed your fingertips. 

"Otto, darling, I owe you an apology," you whispered, straining to hear any sign of movement from the other bedroom. This was a conversation you would rather Axel and Oscar didn't hear. When you heard only the gentle snores of Axel sleeping on the guestroom floor, you continued. "I should have never shouted at you. I know that you weren't trying to hurt me when you brought up my father this afternoon. I'm sorry for overreacting."

Otto let out a small scoff and pulled your head onto his chest, turning over on his back. He held you close and lightly rubbed your back as he responded, saying, "There is no need for an apology,  _ älskling.  _ I took no offense."

You looked up into Otto's eyes, only to find him already focused on you. You swallowed hard. "I want to make my father pay," you admitted. "I want him to suffer just as much as I did at his hands. Am I wrong for that?"

"No," Otto quickly replied, "you're not wrong. A man who can look at his own daughter with that kind of sickness in his heart, let alone act on it, deserves unimaginable pain and a brutal end."

Your stomach did cartwheels as you listened to the conviction of Otto's words. His voice was low and grave. His words were sincere. You had come to know Otto as such a soft and loving man that this darkness almost took you by surprise. Almost. The softness was absent, but the love was still there. You were finally able to see him as an assassin. Otto wasn't cold and calculating like Axel, or wild and a bit devious like Oscar. He was passionate. Instead of fear or dread, you somehow felt comforted. 

"I love you, Otto," you whispered into his lips before kissing them. 

_ "Jag älskar dig också, min raring,"  _ he said as you snuggled into his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I just wanted to let y'all know why I took such a long break between chapters. A close friend of mine passed away very unexpectedly. His passing has taken a huge toll on my mental health and I really needed time away from the internet and every other form of escapism I would use to avert my grief. I'm now in a much better place, and hopefully, I'll be able to continue to update my little fic for you guys.

Your childhood home was dark and silent as you crept down the hallway. You struggled to lug the suitcase along as the hallway seemed to go on forever. With each step it became heavier, and heavier. Soon, it was too much for you to bear as it slipped through your fingers and crashed onto the wooden floor. You watched in abject horror as the suitcase latches gave way and your mother's decayed corpse spilled out onto the floor. Her once beautiful skin was now desiccated and mottled black. Her empty eye sockets stared up at you as her mouth hung open in a silent cry of anguish. You ran fast and hard down the hallway, finally reaching the end as it opened up into the kitchen.

Your blood froze in your veins as you saw your father standing at the kitchen sink, waiting for you. You screamed soundlessly as he rushed toward you. He effortlessly grabbed your neck and threw you to the ground, quick to press his weight against you. His hands found their way up your skirt, clawing away at your flesh. 

"(Y/N), wake up," Otto whispered as he gently shook you into consciousness. You snapped your eyes open and took in a sharp breath. Your mind and heart raced as you took a moment to remember where you were. Otto's arms wrapped around you and he cuddled you close, pressing his nose into your hair.

"What's wrong?" you managed to croak out with your mouth as dry as the Mojave desert. 

"You were talking in your sleep, _älskling._ You were saying, 'I'm sorry,' over and over again. Were you having a nightmare?" Otto spoke softly, directly into your ear. He began to stroke your arm in an attempt to comfort you. You nodded, staring up at the ceiling, as you willed your heartbeat to slow. Otto held you close, murmuring into your hair. You couldn't understand his words, but they had the desired effect of comforting you.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you," you whispered into the darkness.

Otto chuckled softly and kissed your shoulder before saying, "You had a nightmare. There is no need to apologize to me for something you can't control."

His lips found purchase on your clavicle, eliciting a breathy gasp from you. You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your skin as he continued to trail light kisses up to your throat. Your heart began to pound again as your eyes slipped closed. Otto's kisses sent chills through your body, resonating in your core and tingling in your fingertips. Those very same fingertips traced patterns onto Otto's back through his long johns. 

You let out a low, wanton moan, losing yourself in the experience. Otto's hand found its way to your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your nightgown. Your eyes shot open as panic washed over you. You could feel your muscles straining like tightly coiled springs. A silent tear fell from your eye.

Momentarily, Otto was gone. His loving, gentle touch was replaced by all too familiar hands, rough and calloused from decades of hard labor. His comforting scent was now the smell of corn liquor and sweat and grease as it infiltrated your nose and choked its way down your throat. That bastard's lecherous grin flashed as an image in your mind, making you squeeze your eyes tightly closed in an effort to force the memories away. 

Otto noticed your body stiffen beneath him, so he hurriedly pulled away and up on one hand and knee in order to get a better look at you. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your cheek. He carefully tilted your face towards his, so that you were staring directly into his kind, blue eyes. Leaning down slowly, he pressed a loving kiss against your forehead. 

" _Älskling,_ I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry for going too far. Forgive me," Otto whispered. The tension in your muscles had subsided, giving way to tremors. Otto repositioned you both, until he was wrapped around you. His strong chest pressed firmly against your back, his arms holding your own against your chest, all in an effort to soothe the tremors. 

After a long while, you were finally able to speak, "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready."

"I can wait an eternity for you," Otto replied, squeezing you just a fraction tighter. 

You laid in the darkness, listening to Otto's deep, regular breathing. After the nightmare and the miniature panic attack, you knew you wouldn't be falling back asleep. Instead, you reveled in the warmth and comfort of Otto's embrace. His presence was grounding and helped you from spiralling into a full blown panic attack. It didn't, however, keep away the intrusive thoughts. 

You felt terribly guilty for subconsciously comparing Otto to your father. Otto was kind and loving to you, two things your father had never been. Despite the fact that he had respected your wishes to go no further, you just knew that he had to be frustrated. What man wouldn't be? _You don't deserve him._ Otto's warm embrace was becoming suffocating. 

Carefully peeling Otto off of you, you sat up and pulled on your prosthetic leg. Heading to the back porch, you wrapped your housecoat around yourself and made a quick pit stop in the kitchen to pour a drink and grab your smokes. Pulling the back door closed as quietly as possible, you breathed a sigh of relief and let the cold, November air sting your throat and lungs. 

"Couldn't sleep?" you heard a deep, gruff voice ask from behind you. Turning on your heel, you saw the silhouette of a man with his feet propped up, sitting on the swing. 

"Dammit, Axel, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" you whispered through clenched teeth. 

Axel put his feet on the ground and slid over, patting the bench beside him. After only a moment's pause, you took the seat next to him and silently offered him your glass of bourbon. He accepted it, taking a swig while you lit a cigarette. 

"I'm glad they have you," he said quietly, letting his words hang in the frosty air for a moment before adding, "You've proven to be an invaluable friend."

You took your drink back from Axel and took a sip, mulling over his words. Axel sat looking straight ahead, into the darkness with one arm draped over the back of the bench behind you. He was always the most reserved of the brothers; he kept most of his thoughts to himself and was the least likely to laugh or cry. You hoped to change that, a little at a time.

"Bet you wished that you had killed me when you had the chance," you joked, flicking ash from the end of your cigarette. Axel chuckled softly, his deep voice making a rather pleasant sound. He let his arm drop from the bench and onto your shoulders, pulling you in close to his side. 

"I've had many chances, (Y/N)," with that, you felt an ice cold prick against the side of your neck. You didn't have to look to know that he was holding a knife to you. As quickly as he had produced the blade, it was gone. 

The world seemed a little fuzzy around the edges, and Axel's laugh was muffled. Your body was rigid, your lit cigarette pinched tightly between your fingers. As a hitman, you knew his humor was a little warped. You knew it was only a joke, but your fragile mental state couldn't quite handle it. You felt the cool breeze whip across your face, making your tears burn against your cheeks. 

Axel went still beside you, his eyes trained on you in the darkness. He dropped his arm to his side. Everything was tense and still for a few seconds. Then, he slipped his hand around your own, causing you to drop the burned out cigarette butt. Axel's strong, thin fingers squeezed your hand lightly. _I'm sorry for scaring you. I know my joke went too far._

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze in return. _You're forgiven._ Axel wrapped both of his hands around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. _Thank you._

You awoke to the first rays of the morning sun, shining through the screen of the porch. The fine vapor of your breath danced in the bronze light. You watched it, swirling as it dissipated, with the same vague interest that one has while watching a fire burn. You would have done so for hours. However, the aches in your neck and back were becoming more than you could ignore.

You sat up on the bench and stretched, already mourning the loss of the warmth from Axel's coat as it slid from your shoulders and onto the porch. Looking over, Axel's amused smirk greeted you. You rolled your eyes at him, but smiled despite yourself. You retrieved the coat from the ground, shook the dust and cigarette ash from it, and handed it back to its owner. 

_"Godmorgon._ Sleep well?" Axel asked in a husky, morning voice. His typically slicked back hair was loose and hung partially in his eyes. The lines of his face were somehow softer in the morning light, making him appear much younger. He looked momentarily content.

"As well as one can when sidled up to a bony man on a wooden bench," you quipped.

"Fair enough, I suppose," Axel responded with a chuckle. He rose from the porch swing and stretched, reminding you of a lithe, slinking cat. "I could use a cup of coffee."

As you opened the back door, leading into the kitchen, you were met with the inviting smell of frying bacon and fresh brewed coffee. Otto greeted you with a smile from the stove where he stood in only his long johns and your floral kitchen apron. A steaming cup of coffee was waiting for you on the table and a fire had been started in the living room fireplace. _What an angel._

"A hard, wooden bench outside is no place to sleep, _älskling._ Especially with cold hearted Axel as your only warmth," Otto teased, kissing the top of your head as you sat at the table, sipping his coffee. It was a bit too strong for your taste, but you weren't going to complain when he had done something quite nice for you. 

Axel swatted Otto's shoulder with the back of his gloved hand and responded with a smirk, "At least I don't smother her."

"Now, now, boys. I won't have you two fighting over me in the kitchen." You took another sip of coffee for dramatic effect before adding, "It'll have to wait until we're behind closed doors." 

"You're going to have to keep a close eye on this one, brother. She's a bit too brazen for her own good!" Axel let out a hearty laugh (well, as hearty as you'd ever heard from him) and headed upstairs to check on Oscar. 

That was something you would have to finally address. The brothers didn't know about Benjy's awareness of the situation. You had put off telling them, but now that Oscar was awake, you had to keep your promise to Benjy, and doubted that you could get Axel and Otto to leave the house long enough for a visit. It would have to be discussed at breakfast while everyone was still in a pleasant mood. 

You strolled arm in arm with Otto as the pair of you made your way to Benjy's home. The conversation had gone remarkably well. Although Axel was displeased that you had let a stranger into the house (well, a stranger to him, anyway), he agreed that Benjy should visit Oscar. After all, Oscar seemed so very fond of the grocery boy. 

Oscar's good spirits were still intact, but he desperately needed a distraction or else that might change. You had seen the dark look on his face when he thought no one was there to see. You knew what that look meant. You knew how dangerous it could be for Oscar if he dwelled too long in those dark moments. A surprise visit from Benjy would be just the thing.

You knocked politely on the front door of Benjy's house. After a long, silent moment, you knocked again, more forcefully than before. Footsteps could just barely be heard from inside as Otto gently squeezed your hand. You looked up at him to see a look of slight concern on his face, but had no time to ask him what was wrong before the door was swung open.

Benjy looked like hell. His green eyes were dull and sunken, and he obviously hadn't taken care of himself in the twenty or so hours since you had last seen him. He was wearing the same clothes, now a bit wrinkled and disheveled. His face was unshaven and his usually neat, black hair stood up in unkempt spikes. Upon seeing you, his eyes widened and he pulled you into a rather unceremonious hug. Otto clamped his hand onto Benjy's shoulder as a way of warning and Benjy released you from his grip.

"Come inside, y'all. I'm so sorry for my bad manners," Benjy croaked, leading the two of you into his living room. 

"Benjamin," you said, softly, trying to keep things on track, "this is Oscar's brother, Otto." You weren't sure that introductions were important, but they were at least some place to start.

"Goodness, the genes certainly are strong in this family. Are all of them as handsome as Oscar and Otto, here?" Benjy answered with a weak chuckle. _Get to the point, girl._

"Look, darling, I'm gonna need you to go wash up and change your clothes. Oscar is awake." No sooner than the words left your lips, a jolt of nervous energy ran through Benjy. His eyes focused on you, wide and brimming with tears. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but quickly snapped it shut again. Benjy then turned and hurried through a door that you presumed led to his bedroom. 

As soon as the door was firmly latched closed, Otto bent down and spoke softly, yet firmly into your ear, "I don't like or trust him." 

Appalled, you turned to look at Otto, knowing that every bit of your astonishment was written on your expression. Otto's own expression was firm: eyebrows low and furrowed, lips set in a grim line, scar standing out purple under his eye.

"I have a feeling he's bad news, like he is putting on a show. I mean, who falls in love after one meeting? Who is so worried about someone they only spent time with once?" 

"Us," you retorted. 

Could he really be so unaware of himself? He practically did the exact same thing with you. He supposedly fell in love with you before he ever spoke to you. _Supposedly?_ There was that awful doubt again, making a nest in the back of your mind. _Is my relationship with Otto even real? Or is it just desperation from two broken people trying anything they can in order not to die alone?_

The sternness in Otto's face evaporated, leaving him with a sorrowful expression. Neither of you spoke again as you waited for Benjy to finish washing up. After a small eternity of thick silence, Benjy emerged wearing a clean set of clothes and freshly styled hair. He, apparently, decided to keep the black stubble taking up residence on his face.

After adjusting his suspenders and throwing on his coat, Benjy turned to you and said, "Let's go."


End file.
